The Good Life
by Kaikamahine Mai Hawai'i
Summary: Her life was back getting back to normal, or so he thought. But when events unintentionally set in motion are triggered, their lives go in directions neither imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Good Life  
**Author:** Kaikamahine Mai Hawai'i  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. My life would be so much cooler if I did, though. Well, okay, the plot is mine.  
**Summary: **Life was falling back into place. But when events unintentionally set in motion are triggered, their lives go in directions neither imagined. Set to the theme of Good Life by Audio A. Post-Red Eye.  
**Pairing:** Jackson/Lisa  
**Rating:** M for language and _eventually_ adult-themed situations  
**Postings:** None as of yet. I don't object to you posting my story on any Red Eye fanfic sites, **provided** that you inform me first and ask my permission. In turn, I can advertise your site :)

* * *

Chapter 1

Lisa Reisert fumbled with her keys as she attempted to unlock her front door. Finally finding the right key, she inserted it into the lock and turned the knob, feeling the cool air rushing past her arms.

She set her purse on one of the chairs around the kitchen island, then released the plastic Kroger bags, letting them fall to the floor. The blinking red light on her phone showed her she had missed a call or two while she was out. She hit the play button on the answering machine and began to put away her groceries as the messages played.

"Hey Leese, this is Cynthia. Um, we're having an unexpected situation here. Apparently, one of the day managers took a reservation for a wedding reception that's going to be held here on Friday, and didn't write down any of the rooms. The father of the groom called to verify the booking and we don't have anything listed in our system for it. I called around to the day managers and Eddie said he was the one that took the reservation and says he's sorry, he just slipped up, what with him and his wife just having their little girl-"

Lisa rolled her eyes as she put the milk away. Cynthia had a way of putting herself into a long-spun tale of run-on sentences and tangents.

"-that everything should be okay as long as you can put in your code later on tonight and access the Crisis Folder and clear about five rooms, that is, if the Holmann party doesn't leave early. If they're gone, we should be able to free up a couple of rooms by then. Okay, well, see you when you get in. Bye!"

She pulled a popsicle out of the freezer and grabbed her latest Dr. Phil book from the last remaining Kroger bag as the next message kicked in.

"Hey Lisa. It's dad. I just saw an article in the newspaper about a golf tournament going on this weekend in Orlando. Me and some of the guys here at the end of the street are talking about going. Nothing's finalized yet, but if we do decide to go, you've got my cell phone number and I've got yours. I'll give you a call Friday night and let you know one way or the other. Alright, well, just wanted to call and let you know. Have a good day, baby. Love you."

Lisa sighed as she sat down on her couch and flipped on the TV to Cartoon Network. Her popsicle was starting to melt all over her fingers. "Damn!" She quickly moved her dripping popsicle over her bare knees to keep any of the colored liquid from getting on her skirt, and in the process, knocked the remote off the arm of the couch. It banged to the ground, changing the station to the local news channel.

_"-orities say that Jackson Rippner escaped from the Miami-Dade hospital this morning between the hours of 1:00 a.m. and 3:30 a.m. Hospital staff say Mr. Rippner was apparently in stable condition after numerous surgeries to repair multiple gunshot and stab wounds after Lux Atlantic Hotel manager Lisa Reisert responded in what she claims was self-defense. Miss Reisert had been on an overnight flight from Texas to Miami and during the flight, Mr. Rippner allegedly threatened Miss Reisert. The police report said that, according to Miss Reisert, Mr. Rippner claimed he had a hit man stationed outside of her father's house in Miami, threatening to kill him if she didn't cooperate. And, as you may remember, Local 5 was on the scene shortly after the explosion at the Lux Atlantic Hotel, which was part of an assassination attempt on politician Charles Keefe. Mr. Rippner was allegedly the mastermind behind the attack against Mr. Keefe and his family, and had been in the hospital for the past eleven months, undergoing reparative surgeries, which had been hampered by numerous infections. Mr. Rippner's court hearing was set to take place next month, where prosecutors planned to charge him with assault, battery, burglary, entrapment, larceny, and murder one and two, among other charges. Authorities would like to remind our viewers at home: do not attempt to apprehend Mr. Rippner. He's considered very dangerous and possibly armed, but not much is known at this time. However, if anyone spots Mr. Rippner, you can call 9-1-1 or your local police department. That's it for reporter Alejandra Vargas for Local 5 News, now back to the studio. Rich?"_

_"Thanks for that update, Alejandra. Now, the authorities want to remind us again: Jackson Rippner is a very dangerous individual. If you spot him, call local authorities or 9-1-1, **do not** attempt to apprehend him yourself. This is Rich McColluch for Local 5, we'll see you tonight at 11. Good afternoon."_

Lisa sat stock-still on the couch, her popsicle dripping all over her knees. She had been trying to piece her life back together after the events on the red eye flight nearly a year ago. She had made preparations if anything were to happen: mace on her keychain, another can in her purse, another in her car, numerous others in various areas of her house. Self-defense classes at the women's center in the strip mall down the road from the hotel. The field hockey stick next to her bed. The locks on the windows and doors. 9-1-1 on speed-dial. But that all meant shit if she wasn't prepared mentally.

"LISA!" Lisa jumped as she heard the shout from the kitchen. "LISA! PICK UP THE PHONE! IF YOU'RE HOME, PICK UP THE DAMN PHONE, LISA!" She realized she had missed the first few rings and the voice on the other end of the line was being broadcast through her answering machine. With a quick start, she rushed into the kitchen and yanked the phone off the wall.

"Daddy?"

"Lisa! Did you see the news? Were you watching Channel 5?"

"Yes, dad. I ..." She felt a lump form in her throat.

"Lisa, listen to me. Go lock all of your windows and doors NOW. Check every last latch and lock. I'll be over in about fifteen minutes to make sure the inside of your house is clear, okay? Don't open the door for anybody else until I get there, okay? Are you listening to me, sweetheart? Lisa? Are you okay?" Lisa tried to swallow the lump. "Lisa?"

"I'm fine, daddy. I just-" She swallowed the lump and cleared her throat. "Stay there, dad. Don't worry about me. I can handle myself, now. I'm a big girl, remember?"

"I don't care, Leese. This guy is dangerous, we of all people know that-"

"I know, dad, I-" She stopped, swallowing hard. "If I don't learn to take care of myself, I'll never be free of him. I took the self-defense classes, I've got mace on my keychain, I'm prepared," she lied. "I'm tired of being everyone's victim."

"Lisa, baby, I still don't think that it's a good idea for you to be there by yourself-"

"I'll be fine, dad."

"Are you sure?" There it was again. Lisa rolled her eyes and dared herself not to scream.

"Yes, dad. But, just to make you happy, I'll go around and lock every door and window in the house, okay?"

A laugh came from the other end of the line. "Alright, Lisa. But, if anything happens, Leese, if you even _suspect_ something-"

"Call 9-1-1 or my local authorities?" She offered jokingly.

"Definitely. Alright Lisa. Go lock up. I love you."

"Love you too, dad."

* * *

"-and I can only imagine what the bridesmaids' dresses will look like."

Cynthia was chattering again. Lisa rubbed her eyes tiredly as she sat in the reception room at the Lux Atlantic. The hotel had wanted the two of them to keep an eye on the reception guests to make sure a drunken revelry didn't ensue. Wedding receptions in Miami had a way of going from calm family get-togethers to inebriated bedlam.

"Uh, miss?" Cynthia and Lisa turned to see two young men standing nervously behind them. "Hi, uhm ... would you like to dance?" The man who had spoken extended his hand to Cynthia. She laughed nervously and looked to Lisa.

"Go for it, Cynthia! Don't let me hold you back!" Lisa replied with a laugh. The second man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Actually, I was going to see if you wanted to join?" He extended his hand to Lisa. She stared at it a moment before accepting.

"Ah ... of course. I'd love to. Why not?" The two pairs walked to the dance floor. A few upbeat songs played, followed by a slow song intermittently. After a half hour, all were working up a thirst. Cynthia's dance partner offered to go get drinks.

"Okay, who's having what?"

"Um ..." Cynthia looked shyly over at Lisa. "Why don't I go with them and help them carry the drinks?" Lisa understood the underlying tone in Cynthia's voice. Cynthia was looking for an excuse to flirt with her dance partner and figure out what Lisa's thought of her.

"No problem. You guys go over and pick out something to drink, I'll just rest my feet over here. These shoes are killing me!" The trio walked toward the bar, leaving Lisa in the middle of the crowded dance floor. A hand grabbed hers and spun her around.

"Actually, I think this is our song, _Leese_. Let's dance." The slightly rasped voice told her who it was before she had time to look up into the owner's face.

"Jackson." Her voice came out as a horrified whisper as Jackson wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as the next song came on.

"Aww, Leese, I'm honored. You knew who I was before you even saw me." Lisa looked up into the ice-blue eyes and immediately wished she hadn't as chills ran down her spine. Jackson gave her a wicked grin. "I would say that I bet you weren't expecting to see me, but I happen to know for a _fact_ that you saw that news coverage two days ago. You were dripping blue popsicle all over your lap, if memory serves." Another set of chills ran down her spine.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, stealing glances around the crowded room. It was impossible to make out any definitive faces. He squeezed her hand warningly as they swayed to the music.

"No alerting glances to any colleagues, Lisa. You're doing a good job playing along right now, don't screw it up." Lisa stole a glance at the red dot on his throat. He let out a grunting laugh and released her hand to pull his collar away, affording her a better view. "Not a big wound there. The bullet holes were a little more difficult to deal with, though," he offered acidly, pulling her back against his body as the couples around them shuffled to the song. To anyone else, Jackson and Lisa looked like any other couple on the floor, blending in with the crowd. "Don't think I'm not going to get revenge for those, either, Leese. Albeit, one of them was your father's doing." He felt her stiffen.

"What have you done to my dad?" she asked, on the verge of crying. He saw a man in the crowd glance at Lisa's distressed features. He quickly pushed her head to his shoulder.

"Don't attract any unwanted attention, Lisa. You know how I hate that." The man seemed to register Lisa as an overwhelmed wedding guest and mentally brushed it off. "Dear old dad's fine right now. Golf tournament in Orlando, remember? No one's even casing him right now, aren't I nice?"

"Oh, I'm sure. You'll be buying me a Bay Breeze at the bar and discussing middle names any second," Lisa responded coldly. She willed herself not to cry.

"Don't get mouthy. My guys aren't watching your dad right now. To tell the truth, they're keeping an eye on the soon-to-be unconscious Cynthia." Lisa immediately straightened and looked at him alarmingly. "Go schizo on me and my plans will change in a heartbeat. Calm down while I finish explaining." Lisa hesitated a second before relinquishing and laying her head back on his shoulder. "Very well played. Now. Over at the bar. Cynthia and Fuckers A and B. Your three o'clock."

Lisa looked to the bar and saw Cynthia talking wildly with her hands with the two men that had asked them to dance. They were laughing at something Cynthia said while Cynthia took another sip of champagne.

"Those two have been waiting to spike a girl's drink all night. Guess who's drink they drugged? Cynthia will be out like a light in a few minutes. My guys are keeping an eye on her to make sure Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum don't go trying anything kinky with her. Soon as she starts getting a little woozy, my guys will step in and chase them off, then take Cynthia up to one of the complimentary rooms the Lux has reserved for its employees. She'll sleep it off and will most likely wake up with a headache tomorrow. You, meanwhile ..." He paused to dip her, nearly to the floor, before bringing her back up. Lisa felt a little lightheaded as the blood rushed back out of her head. An upbeat Billy Joel song came on that Lisa slightly recognized as Jackson proceeded. "You'll call in another night manager to relieve you and Cynthia and feign a headache, and I'll be the kind dance partner who's going to offer you a ride home, which you'll accept."

"And then?" Lisa almost felt queasy at what could come next. Jackson nearly gave a coy smile.

"I guess it depends on how I play my cards and how good you are at strip poker." Lisa couldn't tell if he was joking or not. She noticed that something had suddenly caught the attention of Jackson's ever-watchful eyes and turned to see Cynthia holding her head and attempting to sit on a bar stool. "My guys are going to move in now and finish up the rest." On cue, two men dressed in business casual approached the bar. One ordered a drink while the other seemed to be concerned with the redheaded patron who wasn't looking so hot. He asked her a few questions, some she nodded to, others she shook her head. Cynthia took the man's arm while the guy ordering the drink distracted the foiled men.

"They won't hurt her?" she asked, still watching Cynthia exiting the reception area.

"Promise, Leese. And you know I keep my promises." If there was anything she knew about Jackson, it was that, oddly enough, he could be trusted. In a sick sense of the meaning of trust. "Now, your turn. Let's get you to the front desk so you can tell Arianna that you're not feeling so well."

Jackson put a hand between her shoulder blades, leading her from the dance floor and out of the reception room to the front lobby. Arianna, the tall, slender Latina behind the front desk, smiled warmly at Lisa and Jackson.

"Bustin' a move out there, eh?" Arianna asked with a slight laugh. Lisa gave a sick smile.

"Bustin' a blood vessel's more like it." She put her hand against her forehead for effect. "Head's killing me. Will you do me a favor and get Tim on the phone? I'm going to see if I can get out of here-"

"Don't worry about it Lisa, hun. I'll take care of things 'round here. Lemme call a cab for you." Arianna picked up the phone as Jackson gave Lisa a glance.

"Um, actually, Ari, I've already got a ride home. You don't have to worry about it."

"You sure, Leese?" Lisa pretended she didn't hate that question. She nodded and turned to look at Jackson. He waved politely at Arianna.

"Goodnight, miss. Ready, Lisa?" He turned a smile on her and Lisa felt a cringe working it's way through her system, but managed to compose herself.

"Of course, like I said ... head's killing me."

* * *

Lisa followed Jackson to the parking garage. Well, more like Jackson had a grip on her arm that told her she wasn't going anywhere except to where he was going. They walked up to a silver BMW with windows tinted so dark that she couldn't tell if anyone was in there or not.

"How are you planning on avoiding the police when you're driving a street illegal car?" she asked. Jackson looked at her questioningly. "Tinted car windows are illegal in the state of Florida" she explained, allowing herself the luxury of a smirk. Jackson gave her a warning look, then snatched her purse away from her. He rummaged around through the contents of the bag until he found her keychain. He held it for a moment before giving her a satisfied grin and holding it up for her to see. She looked with confusion at his face then at the keychain. He laughed at the mini mace can on her keychain before continuing on. He led her over to her car, just three rows away, unlocked the doors and opened the passenger door, looking at her expectantly.

"Getting in?" he asked, sounding somewhat impatient. Lisa held his gaze a moment longer before sliding in and reaching for her seatbelt as Jackson slammed the door closed and moved to the driver's side. In a few moments, the car was rolling out of the garage and onto the darkened streets of Miami. After a tense few minutes of awkward silence, Lisa broke the ice.

"Why now, Jackson?" she questioned, looking out at the slick streets, avoiding eye contact. Jackson glanced over at her, but wasn't rewarded with a returned glance. He looked back at the road and sighed.

"Said I might have to steal you, remember?" He pressed the accelerator to avoid a soon-to-be red light and gave a quick look-around for cops.

Lisa grumbled a laugh. "And I was the naïve one who thought it was just a mind game you were playing with me."

It was Jackson's turn to laugh, now. "Nice to know you've been thinking about our encounter. Makes me feel all warm and tingly inside."

Lisa shook her head and cracked the window a little. "That's one thing you've got right, Jackson." She looked ahead at the street. "I have been thinking about it." She blinked back tears and gave him a glance. "My life went on a downward spiral to hell starting on that night. Everything's gone from bad to worse." She sniffled and looked at her lap. "I've questioned and second-guessed every thing I do. On my way to work I wonder if I'll make it home the next day. And when I go to bed, I worry that I won't be waking up later on." Jackson took the time to look over at her as he stopped at one of the numerous stops signs dotting Lisa's subdivision. "And ever since that flight, I've wondered what I could've done differently to keep myself from-" She choked on her words and looked away.

Jackson looked at her, feeling unnerved and angry at himself. "Keep yourself from what, Leese?"

She sniffled again and looked back. "Keep myself from being used again," she muttered, staring him straight in the eyes. Jackson held her gaze, looking at her bloodshot eyes with tears slipping down her cheeks.

"We've all got to be the pawn sometime, Leese. Your time just happened to be on the that flight, that's all."

"Oh, and I'm not a pawn this time?" she spat. Jackson shrugged and turned onto her street. "When _haven't_ I been your pawn?" Her car glided into the driveway with a slight bump and shuddered slightly as it was shifted into park and turned off. Jackson pulled the keys out and sat there for a moment, looking at the keychain in his lap.

"What were you thinking, Leese ..." he played with a trinket on the chain, "when I was pulling you up by your hair, I mean? Right before your dad shot me?" Lisa frowned and looked over at him in surprise.

"_Excuse_ me?" Jackson glanced out the window, avoiding her gaze.

"What were you thinking, right before I was getting ready to kill you?" Lisa didn't respond, only stared at him in wonderment. "You know what I was thinking?" He finally looked over at her, his signature smirk turning into a confused smile. "I was thinking that I couldn't do it. I couldn't." He snorted and shifted his gaze towards the house before looking back over to her. "There I was, with you right where I needed you, getting ready to finish the job. And I couldn't. Even after you stabbed me with your stiletto and shot me, I- ... I just ... I couldn't."

Lisa stared at him, a whole gamut of emotions running through her. "Why, Jackson? Why couldn't you?"

He shrugged and laughed, but his heart wasn't in it. "I've been trying to find the answer to that question since the moment it happened." He shuffled the keys and looked back down at his lap again. "I think ... if your dad hadn't been there and shot me ... I probably would've just knocked you out and left." He handed the keys back to her and opened his door. "Some bad guy I've turned out to be, huh?"

Lisa felt herself getting angry at him again, felt hot tears trace down the cold tracks of their predecessors. "Why are you telling me all of this, Jackson?"

He paused and looked back at her. "You weren't always my pawn, Leese. For that split second eleven months ago ... I was yours." He laughed halfheartedly. "Like I said, we've all gotta be the pawn sometime."

* * *

Lisa slid her key into the lock and turned it, hearing the lock click open. Pulling the keys out, she turned the doorknob and opened her front door. Jackson moved in front of her, reaching into his jacket for an object Lisa didn't want to identify. Probably the KA-BAR he had threatened her with all those months ago. He stepped into the house, using his free hand to grab Lisa's arm and pull her in with him.

"Lock the door behind you, Leese." She did as he said, not wanting to argue. He peered around the house cautiously, holding whatever was in his hand out in front of him. "Take a seat in the kitchen. I'm going to have a look around. Don't turn on any lights, don't open any drawers, cupboards, nothing. Don't make a sound," he ordered quietly. Lisa had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Jackson?" she whispered.

"I'm not entirely sure we're the only ones in here right now, and until I am, you're gonna sit tight and do as I say. Understood?" Lisa pulled her bar stool back from the kitchen island quietly and sat down, not making a sound. Jackson took her silence as willingness to comply. He moved through the living room quietly, checking behind and underneath pieces of furniture, moving curtains and drapes out of the way, then proceeded through to the next room.

Lisa sat in the kitchen silently, waiting for Jackson to return. One minute turned into five, five minutes turned into ten. Ten minutes of silence caused a bored and nervous Lisa. She pulled her PDA out of her purse, turned it on, and checked through her schedule for the coming week. Manager's meetings, O'Donnells coming in on Thursday, doctor's appointment tomorrow. _Wonder if he'll even let me go to it?_ New hire training on Monday, dinner with dad tomorrow night. _Going to have to pick up a bottle of wine for that. Wait! He's out of town. Nevermind. Delete dinner with da-_

A thump from upstairs caused Lisa to jump. Her heartbeat suddenly increased, beating faster and harder in her chest. She stayed as still and quiet as possible. _Probably just Jackson moving something around up there. Nothing to worry about. Go back to your work schedule, Lisa, get your mind off of what could be going on. You're going to freak yourself out._

_Okay. Delete dinner with dad. Am I sure I want to delete this item? Yes. Train Cynthia on the new corporate protocol for-_

Another thump, followed by creaking floorboards. _Thump._ Something hitting the floor. Lisa glanced at the clock. He'd left her sitting there for twenty-three minutes. She wondered if it was Jackson that she'd heard hitting the floor. And if they took out Jackson ... she'd be next. An easier target. Lisa reached for her keys sitting on the countertop of the island. _Go to the door, unlock it, get outside, lock it behind you. Get to the car, get in, get the hell away from here. _The thought appealed to her, but then she felt a slight shudder of fear run through her.

Dead quiet from upstairs. What if she got to the door and someone was standing on the other side of it? What if Jackson was bleeding to death upstairs? What if someone else was bleeding to death upstairs? _He said he was my pawn_.

Lisa slid off the bar stool slowly, quietly. She looked at the cutlery set on the counter next to the toaster. She walked over to grab one of the knives. One was missing. Her heart was in her throat. She grabbed the largest knife, hearing it hiss against the wooden sheath as it slid out of its resting place. She walked to the doorway that led to her hall. A creak from upstairs. _Take off your pumps, Lisa. You can run better barefoot than you can with pumps._ Another creak. Someone was moving. Her heart was beating so fast that she was beginning to feel lightheaded. Her fingertips began tingling and her palms and the soles of her feet broke out in cold sweats. She moved to the foot of the stairs. _The seventh step creaks, need to move to the side on that one to keep from making noise. Check the smaller rooms first. Then go to your room. There's the phone next to the bed, on the night stand. Never mind. Check the bedroom first. Get to the phone._ She moved to the side, pressing herself against the wall as she reached the seventh step, feeling it begin to initiate a traitorous creak. She moved to the next step before it could make a telltale sound. _Top of the steps, Leese. Look through the hallway. Any shadows moving around? No? Okay. Move yourself up against the wall. Keep yourself in the darkest areas. Less visible that way. Find Jackson._

The knife tingled in her hand. She wiped her free hand against her clothing, then transferred the knife to that hand, wiping her other hand against her dress. _No sweaty palms, Lisa. Find Jackson and find out what the hell's taking so long._ A quick glance at her watch. Thirty-one minutes. Her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to beat its way out of her chest. She felt the door frame of her room slide up against her shoulder. One quick look, then back into the hallway. If the coast is clear, move in. Lisa steeled herself. She turned her head and took a quick peek. _Nothing. Back into the hallway. Wait. What was that dark thing by the bed?_ She felt lightheaded with fear again. Her eyelids threatened to come crashing down as her vision wavered. _Not gonna faint, not gonna faint._ She took a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. _Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God._ Another peek into the room. It was a shoe. Attached to a leg. _Find the phone, find the phone!_

Lisa walked slowly, carefully into the room. She made her way to the bed, watching the shoe for the slightest movement. The shoe became a leg, became a hip, became ... an unconscious blonde man. Blood seeped from the side of his head. _Turn around and get the phone Lisa. Now!_

She turned, slamming into a dark-haired man with anger flashing across what she could see of his face. One faint, final beat of her exhausted heart before it went dead quiet. She had the fleeting feeling of her ears burning with heat while the rest of her body turned ice cold. Darkness crept in from the corner of her vision. _Gonna faint. Damn! I was SO gonna make it to that phone, too!_


	2. Chapter 2

_"Wake up, Lisa,"_ a voice called out.

Lisa attempted to groan, but found the constriction in her chest much too tight to let out more than a sigh. Her hands and legs felt numb, and her neck and chest felt cold and wet.

_"Dammit, Lisa! Wake up!"_

Her eyelids felt heavy and sticky, but she managed to peel them open slightly. Everything was blurry and unsteady. Her vision swam before her as if she were drunk; even when her eyes moved, it took her vision a few moments to catch up with her. Colors and shadows tilted and faded in and out without any real clarity.

Suddenly, a face was before her, close enough to barely register the slight feeling of breath against her skin. Dark, unfamiliar eyes set in an angry, stony face glared mercilessly at her, before darkness charged back in and pulled her back into its depths.

-

-

-

When her senses came back to her, the first thing she realized was that she felt light. Lighter than she should have. As she opened her eyes, she could see a thick, gray-white fog floating around her.

What the h-

"Are you going to stand there all day, pumpkin, or are you going to get out of the water and onto dry land?"

Lisa looked down to find herself ankle-deep in what appeared to be a dark, cold lake. She raised her head to look for the owner of the voice, and saw a figure standing on the shoreline. "Grandma?" she breathed.

There, in a denim blouse with embroidered flowers at the neckline, a white cotton skirt, and sandals, stood her grandmother.

Her dead grandmother.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Something cold dripped at her neck, and the sudden urge to get out of the cold water moved her toward the shore.

Henrietta smiled congenially. "Not really, Lisa, dear." She appraised her granddaughter with an all-encompassing view. "Oh, come see me, sweetheart!"

Deciding just to go with it, Lisa returned the smile and rushed into her grandmother's arms, ignoring the wet squish of her feet on the muddy shoreline. As she felt her grandmother's embrace tighten around her, Lisa finally felt the emotional weight crack open and spill over her. "Oh, Grandma, I'm so sorry I didn't visit you like I said I was going to! I should've come to see you, but by the time I got back to Texas ..."

Henrietta pulled away and gave her a knowing smile. "I understand, dear. I know your job keeps you busy. Besides, you got to see me one last time, didn't you?"

_Breathe for me, Lisa._ The words were hollow and faint, as if being heard from the far end of a tunnel.

"What is that?" Lisa asked, searching for the source of the voice.

Henrietta pulled her granddaughter's attention back to her. "That's not why we're here right now."

Lisa's eyes snapped back to her grandmother. "Why are we here, exactly? I'm not sure I understand-"

_C'mon, Leese. Breathe! Wake up!_

"We're here because you made a very stupid mistake."

A child's laugh pealed across the landscape. Lisa turned to see a man, a woman, and a small child walking along the shoreline, nearly a football field's length away. The child ran into the man's arms, giggling as the man swung the child up in the air. "Who are those people, Grandma? Friends of yours?"

Henrietta gave a wry smile. "You could say that," she replied mysteriously.

At closer inspection, Lisa realized, "Hey, that ... that's me!" She pointed to the woman in the trio, shaking her head. "I don't get it. If I'm not dreaming-"

_I need ... I need a doctor, she's bl-_ The disembodied voice faded before Lisa could catch the end of the sentence.

"Yes, that is you. And the man and child are people that you could potentially get to know. If you make the right choices, that is."

"The right choices?"

"Yes," Henrietta repeated. "As I said earlier, you made a very stupid mistake. One that may cost you your life." She reached forward and grabbed Lisa's necklace, which was coated in red. Blood.

"Oh my God," Lisa breathed. Looking down, she saw that the cold wetness on her chest and neck was coming from a deep hole in her chest, directly over her heart.

_Pulse is unstable. Blood ox-_

"You can't do anything to affect that, so pay it no mind, Lisa." Henrietta pulled Lisa's hand away from the seeping wound in her chest. "Not everything is as it seems here. _Pay it no mind,_" she repeated sternly. "We don't have a lot of time."

"I'm dying, aren't I, Grandma?"

"We're not here to talk about that, now listen!"

_I know I haven't talked to you in a long time ... And I'm sure you've got a special place in Purgatory reserved for m-_

"Where the _hell_ is that voice coming from?" Lisa shouted angrily, confused and scared at the fact that nothing seemed real, as if surreality had invaded and conquered her consciousness.

"I need you to beware the snakes in the grass, pumpkin."

She looked back at her grandmother, confusion crossing her features. "What? What snakes in the grass? What are you-"

"Jackson Rippner," Henrietta stated firmly in an icy tone. "That monster of a man is back in your life, and he can't be trusted. Use extreme caution with him, Lisa! He will use any means necessary to complete his mission, whatever it may be!"

But all I ask is that you make her better. Make her better, and I'll quit. I'll leave this-

"Grandma, I don't understand-"

"You need to keep your wits about you and make sure your head is firmly affixed to your shoulders, child!" Henrietta responded with a sense of urgency.

We need to notify her next of kin. I don't know if she's gonna ma-

Lisa glared upward in an attempt to find the disembodied voice. "Grandma-" She paused, looking at the spot where her grandmother once stood. All that remained was the white-gray fog. As she stared at the empty spot, the fog got thicker, moving in around Lisa as she vainly attempted to see if she could find anybody in this forsaken place. Claustrophobia tightened in her chest until it became hard to breathe, and the weightless dizzying sensation returned, swirling through her veins until she wasn't sure which way was up, and which was down. In a last attempt to steady herself, Lisa held her hands out, trying to balance, but unconsciousness finally claimed her and she crashed to the ground as darkness swept in.

-

-

-

_"Authorities apprehended fugitive Jackson Rippner, who escaped from the Miami-Dade area hospital Thursday night. Ironically, Rippner was apprehended after bringing Lisa Reisert into a hospital to receive urgent medical care. Authorities say Rippner brought in Reisert with a knife embedded six inches into her chest. The knife grazed her heart and embedded itself in her shoulder blade. Doctors worked on Reisert for hours, attempting to repair the damage done to her heart, but were unable to bring her back to life. Upon the insistence of her father, Joe Reisert, a local cardiac specialist team was enlisted to help, and surprisingly, resuscitated her. Officials say that Ms. Reisert has a long road ahead of her, but her full recovery is expected. Rippner, now being held in Miami-Dade County Jail, is expected to face trial soon. We'll update you more on this story as soon as we receive more information. On to the weather, now-"_

Lisa switched the TV off and stared at the green Jell-O wiggling in front of her. She didn't know how something could look cute and revolting at the same time.

"Lisa, sweetheart, you should be resting." Her father walked in to the room and set down his coffee on the bedside table. "You heard what the doctors said, Lisa. Nothing to raise your heart rate."

"I know, Daddy," she said weakly. Her father gave her a concerned smile. "I'm sorry I scared you and Mom like that." Joe gave a small laugh.

"We're just glad you're okay, sweetie. I don't know what would've happened if I'da lost you to that Rippner monster. Stabbing you in the heart like that-"

"I told you, Dad. He didn't stab me. I turned around and when I knocked into that guy, I accidentally stabbed myself."

"Lisa, I find that hard to believe."

"Why would Jackson stab me and then bring me to the hospital, Dad? That doesn't make sense." Joe sat back in his chair and reached for his coffee, taking a sip.

"Maybe he was tired of running, Lisa."_ Not true. He'd run for the rest of his life if it kept him out of jail._

"Did they ever find the other guy? The one I hit against?" Joe shook his head.

"Not yet. The man on your floor was dead when the police found him. No motives, no clues, nothing." Lisa nodded and looked at her blankets with a frown.

-

-

-

After numerous surgeries, check-ups, medications, physical exams, tests, and procedures, Lisa was finally release from the prison of the hospital, to the prison of the court system.

_Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?_

_I do._

_You may be seated._

_Miss Reisert ... when you arrived at the airport for your flight back from your grandmother's funeral ... you assumed it would be just another flight-_

_-Your Honor, I'd like to present to the jury ... Item No. 243-3-CH in Exhibit D. This is an eight-inch, serrated, stainless steel steak knife. You'll notice the blood on the blade. This, unfortunately, is Miss Reisert's blood. We have reason to believe that the defendant, Jackson Rippner, shoved this blade into Miss Reisert's chest in an attempt to murder her. Would you agree, Miss Reisert?_

"No, I would not," Lisa said firmly from her seat on the witness stand. Gasps were heard from around the courtroom. She saw Jackson look at her in surprise. She stared back.

"I'm sorry, Miss Reisert, did you say 'No, I would not'?" Lisa's eyes snapped back to the prosecutor. The trial had been long, already delayed by the recovery time needed for her injuries before she could testify. Everything had seemed like a blur, with only bits and pieces clarifying themselves before fading again. "Miss Reisert?"

"I don't believe that Mr. Rippner embedded that knife in my chest, no. I did it. On accident." More gasps and murmurs. Jackson stared at her with intrigue.

"Miss Reisert, the police have yet to find this second attacker you _claimed_ to have ran into-"

"I'm aware of that, Prosecutor," Lisa snapped.

-

-

-

"Could you please state your name, for the record ..."

"Jackson Lucas Rippner."

Knives. Cell phones. Incendiary devices. _His middle name's 'Lucas'?_ Everything wrapped neatly in plastic bags with labels. Whoever wrapped the evidence must have proud mothers. _Hah ... so his name actually **is** Jackson Rippner._ Her injection site itched. _Don't take the bandage off. _

"You threatened Miss Reisert, AND her father, Mr. Rippner, isn't that true? And for the record, ladies and-"

Her heart thumped softly in her chest. Thump, thump, thump-thump, thump, thump-thump. _Irregular heartbeat. Arrhythmia. It'll work itself out in time, Lisa. Your heart just has to learn how to get back into the right beat again. It'll train itself._

"-who was found on the floor of Miss Reisert's bedroom. Where was the second attacker, Mr. Rippner?"

"There wasn't one." Lisa looked up. Jackson stared at the prosecutor.

"Well, then ... care to explain to the court, who Miss Reisert encountered?"

"It was me." He gave her a quick glance. "When we entered her house, I had a bad feeling about the place. I told her to stay downstairs in the kitchen-"

"Mr. Rippner, I don't see where this is going!"

"How 'bout you _don't fuckin' interrupt me_ and you'll find the fuck out!" Jackson snapped. Lisa had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. A few other members of the court seemed to have the same problem.

"Prosecutor ..." the judge warned, "he's got a point. Please don't interrupt the defendant while he's testifying." He gave the prosecutor a stern glance before looking back to Jackson. "You may continue, Defendant." Jackson gave the prosecutor a smug smile and continued.

"Like I was saying," he straightened his jacket and readjusted his posture, "I told her to stay downstairs while I searched the house. When I found Mr. Jonovan in the master bathroom, he rushed me, and we had an altercation. Mr. Jonovan had a gun, aimed it at me, and when he went to fire, the gun jammed. That's when I stabbed him."

"So you admit to stabbing Mr. Jonovan?"

"Was I supposed to talk him out of shooting me? If I didn't take him out first, he'd have taken me out, then there's a very real possibility that he would've encountered Lisa next."

"So you're saying you did this for Miss Reisert's safety? After you had attempted to kill her months earlier?"

"I did it out of self-defense. Consider Lisa's survival a bonus for the court," he replied sarcastically. Lisa pushed back a smirk.

"Yet, Miss Reisert's chance of survival rapidly declined after that point, isn't that true, Mr. Rippner?"

"Curiosity killed the cat," he responded with a shrug.

"Explain what happened after that."

"I left the bedroom to search the rest of the rooms upstairs. Lisa must've come looking for me. She has a tendency to not do things that I ask her to do." He glanced over at her. Lisa laughed softly, knowing that Jackson was resisting the urge to smirk. "She probably heard Mr. Jonovan hitting the floor and when she came upstairs, she found him lying on the floor next to her bed. I saw movement in her bedroom, so I went in, and saw Lisa. When she turned around, she ran into me." _The dark hair, the angry face! He was mad because I didn't stay downstairs!_

"Funny, that's not what Miss Reisert remembers."

"_I_ remember her saying that she couldn't see much of anything, Prosecutor." Lisa saw the muscles in the prosecutor's jaws clench in anger. "It was dark. No lights, only the light from the neighbor's house coming in. Gets a little hard to see anything in almost utter darkness."

"So, Miss Reisert ran into you, _so you claim_ ... what next?" Lisa watched Jackson intently. He looked down in his lap and seemed to look a little ... what? Angry? Upset?

"Lisa just kinda ... froze. I figured I just scared her and she fainted. When she started falling, that's when I saw. I ... I saw the knife. I grabbed her before she hit the floor. There was-" he looked over at Lisa with pained eyes, "there was a lot of blood."

"So, you claim you tried to performed CPR and mouth-to-mouth?" Jackson looked up at the prosecutor.

"No, not CPR. I did try mouth-to-mouth, though." The lips against hers ... _C'mon Leese. Breathe! Wake up!_ "I didn't want to try CPR with the knife being so close to her heart. At the time, I wasn't aware it had grazed it. I didn't wanted to risk anything." The prosecutor laughed.

"Didn't want to _risk anything!?_ May I remind the court, that Mr. Rippner had _a knife_ to Miss Reisert's throat eleven months prior to this incident-"

"But he didn't kill me!" Lisa screamed. All eyes were on her. She realized that was standing. The judge banged his gavel a few times to restore order.

"Miss Reisert, you're speaking out of turn. I'm going to have to ask you to remain seated until you are brought up to testify," he said softly. Lisa nodded and sat back down. Jackson stared at her.

"I'd like to also remind the court that if Mr. Joe Reisert hadn't shot Mr. Rippner, he may have, in fact, had time to kill Miss Reisert."

"I had time to kill her, anyway," Jackson spat. "I hesitated." Lisa felt her father bristle next to her.

"After you began performing mouth-to-mouth, what happened?" The prosecutor continued. Jackson looked down again.

"She breathed a few times. I took her back to her car, which was parked out front, and started driving to the hospital. I had to keep checking to make sure she was breathing. A few times, she wasn't. I'd pull over and perform mouth-to-mouth until she started breathing again." He paused, glancing back at Lisa before continuing. "By the time I got to the hospital, she'd lost a lot of blood, and she was barely breathing."

"Why, exactly ... _did_ you bring Miss Reisert to the hospital, Mr. Rippner, if you only came back to finish the job you started?" Lisa watched Jackson expectantly. "Mr. Rippner?"

"I don't even know why I came back to her in the first place. When she asked me why I came back, I told her what I had said to her on the plane ... I'd said that I might have to steal her. I couldn't think of another response. I think part of me wanted to torture her for fucking up my assignment. Another part of me wanted closure. Most of me was unsure about anything." He looked back at her again. "But when I saw that knife sticking out of her chest, I knew that _wasn't_ what I'd come there to do. If I wanted to kill her, I'd have done it myself. But I didn't. Didn't come back to kill her, that's for sure. And I couldn't let her lay there and die." He'd held her gaze throughout his response, saying everything, in his own way, directly to her.

"Why not?"

"I'm still not sure."

-

-

-

Jackson sat in the courtroom, watching his lawyer speak heatedly with the judge. He had a snowball's chance in hell of getting what he wanted, but his lawyer was putting up a good fight for him. The plaintiffs' lawyers were also arguing loudly, trying to knock their own sense into the judge. After a few more moments, the lawyers returned to their respective benches as the judge shuffled her papers and removed her glasses.

"Court will adjourn for a half-hour recess while I confer with the counsel." He banged his gavel and people began rising. "Counsel members?" He looked at the lawyers. Jackson watched his own lawyer grab the case file, along with a notepad and pen.

"Don't get lost while I'm gone," he grumbled. Jackson merely shrugged and stood, cracking his neck. Turning, he saw Lisa, with Joe standing protectively in front of her, leading her through the crowd toward the doors.

It was at that moment that he noticed a familiar face toward the back of the courtroom. A man with sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a grey suit slowly worked his way toward Jackson, moving against the flow of people streaming toward the exit. Jackson waited patiently and finally extended his hand when the man was within range.

"Well, well, well ... if it isn't the ghost from Christmas past," Jackson mused as the man smiled and shook Jackson's outstretched hand. "I thought you were still overseas, Rutger?" The man shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands down in his pockets.

"Yeah, well, plans changed when news spread that the infamous Ripper was being brought up on attempted murder and terrorism charges," his Australian accent was thick as he spoke. "Which brings me to why I'm here." Jackson raised an interested eyebrow at Rutger and leaned against the railing separating the spectators from the court proceedings as the room emptied.

"I'm listening." The Australian pulled out a small piece of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Jackson.

"The word from our legal department is that there's a possibility of some foul play on this trial. Might want to have your lawyer look into that for you." Jackson looked at the paper that Rutger gestured to, and began reading it, his brows scrunching in confusion.

"What is this, exactly?" Jackson asked. Rutger looked around and checked for eavesdroppers before continuing.

"Those are the names of the companies that Judge Harnois has stock in, which, coincidentally, are controlled by our company. I'm sensing a possible manipulation of the ruling on this case, with his stock interests being the deciding factor," Rutger explained conspiratorily. Jackson smiled.

"Does he know he's being set up?" he asked. Rutger laughed.

"That's the best part, mate! He _actually owns_ those stocks! It's legit!" He allowed himself a satisfied smile. "It's the presiding judge's duty to research any conflict of interests before taking a case." Jackson folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket, giving a small laugh.

"I'll be damned," he murmured. Rutger clapped Jackson on the back and glanced over his shoulder.

"Alright mate ... look, just thought I'd drop by, hand you the information myself. I've got to be going, soon, so I'll see ya?" Jackson sighed and looked at his shoes.

"Um, actually, probably not." Rutger paused and turned back to Jackson.

"Huh? It's not like they're going to give you the chair once your lawyer brings that stock information up." Jackson shook his head.

"Nothing like that, it's just ... I'm probably not going to be getting too many more assignments, what with this whole Keefe situation," he explained. "Hell, the company didn't even send one of their lawyers to defend me, I had to find one of my own! That's why I was kind of surprised when they had you come here and deliver the dirt against Judge Harnois." Rutger frowned.

"Jacks, man ... they didn't send me." Jackson frowned. "I found this out from one of the girls in legal that I used to sleep with." Rutger had the decency to blush a little. "She owed me a favor or two, and when she had mentioned something about your court case, I decided to cash in." Jackson suddenly realized how short he suddenly was on friends, Rutger being just about his only one now. "Company didn't send me. I came here by my own volition."

"Oh ... right," Jackson said, looking at his feet and nodding. "Well, um ... thanks, Rutger. For everything. And if I don't see you again ..." he held out his hand, causing Rutger to frown, slowly extending his own hand, "good luck with everything. Hope you get everything you ever dreamed of, man. Take care of yourself." Rutger nodded, his brows furrowed as he finally shook Jackson's hand.

"Yeah, mate ... you, too. Watch your back. And your leg." He gestured down to the leg Lisa had skewered with her heel. Jackson allowed himself a small smile and nodded.

-

-

-

**Four Days Later**

"Look kid, I don't know who your sources are, but they just saved your ass!" Jackson's attorney hissed excitedly as they began to exit the courtroom.

"No shit, they did, Kevin! And yes, I know: no talking to any reporters, for my own good." His attorney smiled and slapped him on the back.

"Thinking smart like that'll keep you alive longer, kiddo." Jackson rolled his eyes. Kevin had a tendency to continually call him childish names due to the attorney's advanced age. Nearly eighty and still kickin' in the courtroom. "I've got a meeting with another client here in about fifteen minutes. Think you can handle the masses?" He gestured to the entry at the end of the hallway, where nearly all the reporters and news teams in the state had gathered, waiting to hear the verdict and hopefully interview the trial attendees.

"I can handle myself. Besides, I've got some business of my own to handle," Jackson murmured. Kevin broke away and headed off down one of the many hallways, leaving Jackson to walk with the rest of the people making their way to the door.

A flash of red hair near the entry caught his attention. Lisa. He immediately quickened his pace and shoved past the people in his way. He'd nearly forgotten about the reporters by the time he'd reached the doors.

_"Jackson! Jackson! What are your thoughts-"_

_"Mr. Rippner! Can we get an interview, please-"_

_"How does it feel to get off on a technicality-"_

_"Were you expecting this outcome, Jacks-"_

He shoved past the reporters, grumbling 'no comment' as he moved toward Lisa, who was also being hounded by news teams, despite Joe's best efforts. He ran toward her, shoving through the throng of reporters between them.

"Lisa!" he shouted. He was simply drowned out by the throng of people. "LISA!" She looked up, seeming to hear him, but quickly dismissed it as Joe led her to the car. Jackson pushed ahead of more people and gave a cameraman a none-too-friendly shove. "LEESE!" he bellowed, his voice loud and raspy. A feeling of satisfaction ignited in his chest as he saw her freeze dead in her tracks. _No one else calls her 'Leese' like that, but me._ She turned and scanned the crowd, finally catching sight of him as he shoved his way through reporters.

"C'mon, Lisa, honey, let's go," Joe growled. Lisa nodded and turned toward her father again, then stopped when she felt a hand clamp around her arm.

"A word with you, Leese?" Jackson asked, irritated at the audience.

_"Miss Reisert! How has your life changed since the events on flight-"_

_"Lisa! Lisa! Are there any connections between you and Mr. Rippner's terrorist organiz-"_

_"Is it true that you were in on it, Miss Reisert!?"_

_"Jackson, how are your employers hand-"_

Jackson growled and looked back at Lisa. "Preferrably in private?" Joe shoved through the crowd and grabbed Lisa's arm.

"Get away from my daughter, Mr. Rippner!" Joe snapped. Jackson fumed. _I fucking **saved** your daughter's life, you son of a-_

_"Miss Reisert, are you going to be publishing-"_

Enough was enough. Jackson snapped.

"Will everyone get the _fuck_ out of here?" he bellowed. The crowd of reporters jumped back noticeably as Jackson raged, his blue eyes conveying death threats as his face turned redder. "Get the fuck _out_ of here!" The crowd murmured, and cameras slowly stopped flashing. Jackson turned back to see Lisa and Joe hurrying off to their car. Jackson quickly ran after the pair, noticing that none of the news teams seemed to want to stare death in the face again by following them.

"Lisa! Leese!" Jackson called. She stopped, much to Joe's disappointment.

"Get in the car, Lisa!" he growled, opening the door for her as Jackson approached.

"What do you want, Jackson?" Lisa asked softly. She reached into her purse for an orange prescription bottle, popping two pills into her mouth and swallowing them dry. Her heart wasn't going to be able to take much more excitement for one day. "Haven't you put me through enough?" Jackson frowned.

"I didn't come over here to torture you, Leese," he spat. He fell quiet, as did she. For a few moments, neither said a word.

"How much did it cost for you to pay off the judge?" Lisa finally asked. Jackson fumed inside. "Enough for a down payment on a car? Or maybe enough for a car itself? Or possibly a vacation house in Malibu-"

"I didn't pay anyone off, Lisa! He legitimatly had stock in one of our subsidiary companies!"

"Do you _seriously_ expect me to believe that, Jackson? Hmm?" Joe started the car and yelled for her to get in. "I've got an appointment, Jackson. Don't make me late for it." She turned to get in the car.

"Lisa-" His hand was on her arm, requesting her attention again. She turned back to look at him. "I just- ... I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Wanted to see for myself that you were alright."

Lisa paused, regarding him for a moment. She wanted to believe, she really did. If he could change himself, then-

Without a word, she gave a slight nod and slipped into the car, slamming the door. Jackson watched as Joe threw it into reverse and quickly sped out of the parking lot.

Jackson stood there for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his cell phone and flipped it open. "Time to finish this," he murmured, dialing the number for Headquarters.


	3. Chapter 3

"I _understand_ that he's busy until next week! I've been trying to get a meeting with him for _the last two months_! ... Well, when's the first available appointment that I can schedule with him? ... No! Don't put me on hold!" The salsa music coming from the other end of the line indicated that the receptionist obviously had ignored his request. _"Fuck!"_ Jackson shouted, snapping his phone shut.

He had tried, unsuccessfully, for the past nine weeks, to meet with his boss. Unfortunately for Jackson, the media attention caused by his failed assassination attempt at Keefe had settled disagreeably with his boss, and life had become aggravating for Jackson. It had been nine weeks since the trial ended and reporters had been trying to interview him all the way up until a week ago, when the media craving for the trial had fizzled, and began to focus on upcoming elections. That was fine with him; it allowed his life to return back to normalcy. Normalcy called for peace and quiet. And, of course, for keeping track of Lisa.

She had been to numerous doctor's appointments, never failing to miss a single one. He had watched the various video feeds from her house, which he still monitored like a hawk. It was a wonder that she hadn't figured him out yet. He paused, looking at his watch. She should be at her appointment right now. He smiled to himself and shoved his phone into his pocket, getting up off the couch. After gathering a few more necessities, he grabbed his keys, locked the front door, and headed out to his car.

-

-

-

Lisa winced as the nurse slid the needle under her skin. "You're a little dehydrated, so we're going to start you on an IV first before giving you your medication, alright?" Lisa nodded and eased back into the chair, watching the ever-constant drip from the bag ... down to the IV tube ... and into her arm. "He's attending to another patient right now, so just make yourself comfortable while we rehydrate you, and he'll be in as soon as he's finished." The nurse gave a friendly smile and left the room.

Lisa sighed and looked around the room, noting how bland and sterile it appeared. She reached into her purse with her free hand and pulled out her MP3 player, carefully sliding the ear buds in and scanning the FM stations until she caught a good signal. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and let her mind wander.

Jackson's trial had ended nearly two months ago, and instead of him ending up in jail, he had ended up being set free on a technicality. She allowed herself to harbor the conspiracy theory that he paid off the judge, but since he hadn't approached her since their last meeting in the courthouse parking lot, she wasn't worried about another run-in with him.

However, no matter how hard she tried to put it behind her, she found herself thinking, on a daily basis, about his testimony. Nurses, doctors, and other hospital staff members that she had talked to validated his story. He had brought her in to the hospital, barely alive, and saved her life. The nurse staffing the reception desk that night said he had come in, haggard and pale, carrying her nearly lifeless body, both of them covered in her blood.

_"He looked absolutely terrified! But then again, you flatlined three or four times within the first ten minutes he brought you here. He just stood there, standing in the back of the room, watching them work on you. Jo-Ann was one of the ones in the room working on you at the time, and she said that he seemed to be in post-traumatic shock. That's probably why he didn't put up a fight when the cops took him in."_

"So, Lisa!" Lisa jumped as her thoughts were interrupted. She looked up to see her doctor entering the room. He flipped through her chart and made a few notes. "How's your drip?" Lisa shrugged and turned down the volume on her MP3 player.

"It's ... dripping." She gave a slight smile. "They said I was a little dehydrated." Her doctor nodded and studied her for a moment.

"Have you been drinking enough fluids, like we asked?" Lisa shrugged and shook her head.

"I can get the fluids down, I just can't always keep them down. Same for solids."

"Well, that's to be expected. Let's get your medication started and then we can get you out of here so you can go home and rest up. Just make sure that you keep trying to drink as much water or juices as you can, no matter how long they stay down. If they come back up, drink some more. Gimme two secs and I'll be back with your medication."

-

-

-

Jackson walked into the hospital, shades over his tell-tale eyes. He was dressed as inconspicuously as possible, aside from the shades. He glanced around a few times, trying to find Lisa's familiar hair color. A nurse at the front desk caught his attention.

"Sir? Can I help you?" she asked, looking at the slender man in front of the desk. He turned and approached, giving her a warm smile.

"Uh yeah, actually, I was wondering if you could tell me where I can find Lisa Reisert?" He held up the bouquet of flowers he'd brought to authenticate his story. "I knew she was going to be in here today, so I figured I'd come in and bring her a little surprise." He set his car keys casually on the counter next to the bouquet of flowers as he crossed his arms and leaned on it. "Do you know what room she's in?"

"Friend or family?" the nurse asked, her fingernails clicking on the keyboard.

-

-

-

Lisa groaned as the medication in the second IV slowly seeped through her veins. She had the volume on her MP3 player turned up again, and leaned back against the bed they had moved her into. One more song, and her medication drip should be finished. Her mind had been preoccupied with the trial --- more specifically --- Jackson. Every time she came to a hospital, or passed one, she would automatically associate it with him. No wonder she wasn't loving this place.

"And here's one from Audio Adrenaline, from their _Underdog_ CD. This is 'Good Life', on The Positive Alternative: Air1 ..."

Last song, Lisa thought. For some reason, the last song she heard during her hospital stays seemed to stick with her for the rest of the day. She looked outside as the music began, watching the rain pelt against the window. _Good Life, my ass_, she thought dryly.

_"I've watched my dreams all fade away ... and blister in the sun  
__Everything I've ever had's ... unraveled and undone  
__I've set upon a worthless stack ... of my ambitious plans  
__The people that I've loved the most ... have turned their backs and ran ..."_

_"This is the good life ...  
__I've lost everything  
I could ever want, ever dream of ...  
This is the good life ...  
I found everything  
I could ever need, here in Your arms_

_Good, good life  
Good, good life  
Good, good life  
Good, good life"_

_"Loneliness has left me searching ... for someone to love  
Poverty has changed my view ... of what true riches are  
Sorrow's opened up my eyes ... to see what real joy is  
Pain has been the catalyst ... to my heart's happiness_

_This is the good life ...  
I've lost everything  
I could ever want, ever dream of ...  
This is the good life ...  
I found everything  
I could ever need, here in Your arms ..."_

_"What good would it be (what good would it be)  
If you had everything  
But what you didn't have  
Was the only thing you need?_

_This is the good life  
I've lost everything  
I could ever want, ever dream of ...  
This is the good life  
I found everything  
I could ever need, here in Your arms._

_This is the good life  
I've lost everything  
I could ever want, ever dream of ...  
This is the good life  
I found everything  
I could ever need, here in Your arms."_

"Alright, missy." Lisa looked up as the nurse walked in, examing the drip bag hanging above Lisa. She gently removed the needle and, after checking her over, said the four words Lisa was longing to hear. "You're free to go."

-

-

-

Lisa headed to the elevator, feeling slightly nauseated already. Her medication always made her feel like crap. She eagerly awaited the day when she would be off of it. She heard the elevator ping and moved to the door, reaching into her purse for her keys. The doors slid open, and Lisa stepped in, looking up. Her heart froze.

Jackson leaned casually against the railing, giving her his damned evil smirk. A few strands of hair hung in front of his eyes, shuddering slightly when he blinked.

"Going down?" he asked slyly, punching the 'DOOR CLOSE' button before any other passengers thought about boarding. Lisa held his gaze a moment longer before hitting the button for the parking garage.

"What are you doing here?" she asked calmly, leaning against the opposite wall. Jackson smirked again, holding up the bouquet of flowers he had brought in.

"I was simply a friend of the family, coming in and surprising ole' Leese with a nice bouquet of flowers." He held them out to her, his smile daring her to take them. When she still made no move for them, his smile faded and he rolled his eyes. "You can _seriously_ have them, Leese. It's not like I've got a need for 'em." She took them hesitantly, not bothering to smell them. "Oh come _on_, Leese! I'm past killing you with poisoned flowers!" She sniffed warily at the carnations.

"What are you _really_ doing here, Jackson? It's been nine weeks since the trial, you haven't shown up through the entire two months, and now you decide to show up. Why?" He shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.

"Call it a personal interest." He slowly stepped forward, keeping his arms folded over his chest and locking his eyes on hers. "What does Lisa Reisert do with all the numerous doctor's appointments she has, huh?" He noticed the Band-Aid over the back of her hand. "Is this a weekly casualty?" He grabbed her wrist and gently peeled back the Band-Aid, focusing on the bruised red dot on the back of her hand. He carefully put the Band-Aid back in place and released her hand.

"My personal life is none of your business. It never was, no matter how much you may have thought so." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Lisa stepped into the parking garage, followed closely by Jackson.

"See, that's what's wrong with you, Leese," Jackson mused as he followed her through the garage. "You can't let anything go-"

"You're the one who's still following me around!" she retorted. She found her car and cut through two rows, still followed by Jackson. "Your job with me's over, and yet, you're still here."

"Like I said ... personal interest. Doesn't mean I can't let it go, though." Lisa clicked the unlock button on her keychain and watched her car's interior light come on. "C'mon, tell me ... how boring has life been since I've been out of the picture?" Lisa spun on him, looking directly into his eyes, feeling an icy chill slip down her spine.

"That's just it, Jackson! You've never left the picture! You just moved into the background! You're _obviously_ still keeping tabs on me." Jackson bristled.

"You'll forgive me if I can't help but think _every day_ about how you _fucked_ _up_ my assignment!" he growled. Lisa noticed the slight rasp in his voice, and found her eyes immediately going to his throat. She quickly averted them.

"And _I'm_ the one who can't let anything go?" she asked. Jackson gritted his teeth and looked away.

"_Fuuuuuck_ that one backfired on me like a sonuvabitch!" he fumed. Lisa felt her condition rapidly deteriorating.

"Look, Jackson, I'm not feeling very good. All I want to do is go home and crawl into bed." Jackson noted that she had paled slightly and her posture had slumped.

"Fine," he conceded with a nod. "We'll talk again." He couldn't help throwing that one in as he turned and headed to his car.

"Jackson?" He stopped, hesitating a moment before turning. She looked as if she was contemplating something, and wasn't sure if she should ask it or not.

"What?" Lisa swallowed hard.

"Wh- ... why did you save me?" He stared at her. "What made you risk your freedom ... maybe even your life, if they sentenced you ... to save me?"

Lisa watched as he took a few glances around. The muscles in his jaw twitched, and he refused to look at her.

He turned on his heel and headed to his car without answering.

-

-

-

Lisa sat in her oatmeal bath, sipping at her glass of orange juice as she relaxed in the tub. Her day hadn't gone as planned. _Well, the meeting Jackson part hadn't._

"Hadn't planned on meeting him, period," she mused to herself quietly, setting her glass of orange juice down. He had been keeping tabs on her still, and while it wasn't a welcome surprise ... well ... come to think of it, it wasn't really a surprise at all.

_Wait, he's been keeping tabs on me!_ Lisa imagined cameras everywhere, and reached for the shower curtain, pulling it shut as quickly as her weakened body would allow. She sighed and sank back into the tub, letting the milky water cover the majority of her body. She felt tired, worn out, and weak. She hated every one of those feelings. Especially the feeling weak part. She had a tendency to confuse weakness with lack of control sometimes.

_"... that it was beyond ... your ... control?"_

She shuddered as she remembered his words on the plane. He had been so certain that he had her pegged, that he knew exactly what had been running through her mind. _Yeah, well, for someone who'd been stalking me for 8 weeks, he didn't know shit._

_"No. That it would never happen again."_

Lisa groaned and carefully moved into a kneeling position in the bathtub, slowly working her way out of it. She could feel her energy ebbing as it always did after her medication began its course. She pulled the plug from the drain and yanked the shower curtain back, reaching for her towel.

-

-

-

That night, Lisa was in her kitchen, half-heartedly sipping at the chicken noodle soup in her bowl. She had a feeling that the meal would come back up later on, but her doctor had advised her to keep trying to get liquids down.

She jumped as she heard her phone begin buzzing in her purse. She reached for the small black purse hanging from the bar chair next to her, and rummaged around in the bag for a few moments before finally finding the phone. She quickly flipped it open and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?" She heard background noises, but couldn't make out much else. "Hello?" Nothing. Frustrated, she snapped it shut, terminating the call. She looked at the number flashing on the LCD display on the front of the phone, but all it read was 'UNKNOWN CALLER'. _Not much help._

-

-

-

Jackson stared at his phone, silently cursing himself for not having the balls to say anything. Frustrated, he closed it and threw it to the opposite end of his couch.

He had been ballsy enough to surprise her at the hospital. Although, she almost seemed to be expecting it. He wondered at the needle mark on the back of her hand. _IV? Injection? Blood sample? No, if it was a blood sample, they'd have taken it from the inside of her elbow._

Grabbing his cell phone again, he abandoned his position on the couch and stomped into his room, sitting down at the computer desk and opening his laptop. A bright blue glow filled the room as the monitor lit up and he typed his password. After typing in a few more passwords and accessing different files, he was able to pull up the video feeds from Lisa's house. He scanned the different rooms, flipping from one camera to another. Finally, he found her, in the kitchen.

"No eggs this time, Leese?" he asked, seeing her sipping at a bowl of soup. At closer inspection, he began feeling sorry for her. She was slumped, practically laying on the island's countertop. Her hair was dull, lacking its normal luster and vibrance. Her pajamas, which consisted of flannel pants and an oversized hoodie, were wrinkled. _Under the weather would be an understatement._

Suddenly, Lisa jumped up from the chair and raced out of the kitchen. Frowning, Jackson began switching through the various video feeds, until he found her again. The camera in her bedroom showed Lisa in the connecting master bathroom, her head practically hanging in the toilet and her body convulsing as she began vomiting up the meager contents of her stomach.

"No fucking way ..." Jackson muttered. _Shit! It all made sense now! The way she had said she wasn't feeling good, the repetitive checkups, the way she wasn't able to keep anything down, the fatigue ..._

No sooner had the revelation come to him than he started to frown. How dare she? _Wait, what the fuck do I care? I'm not supposed to care._

"Just file it all away and objectively analyze it like a good manager's supposed to," he murmured to himself. "Getting involved was how I got into hot water last time."

_But there's ... No. Fucking. Way. How could she ... and with me not even knowing ... what did I miss!?! There **had** to be someone who would know. Well, Joe would be chock-full of information, but considering he shot me, I don't think it'd be too good of an idea to go over and ask him what's going on in his daughter's life. Snooping around in Lisa's life is risky enough as it is. Getting into Joe's makes things so much more complex._ There had to be a way to find his answers.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his cell phone out, quickly dialing a number. After a few rings, the other line picked up.

"It's Rippner ... yeah ... uh-huh ... listen, I need to get in contact with Marinecchi ... yeah ... okay, put me through ..." He watched Lisa leaning over the sink as he waited to be transferred. He heard a click and another voice answered. "Marinecchi? It's Rippner ... yeah, I know ..." He paused, waiting for the other man to finish. "Listen, I need an ID, can you hook me up with something?" A smile passed across his face as he listened to the other man. "Oh, you're gonna love this one ... how long is it going to take?" Lisa was now washing her face and rinsing out her mouth. "Okay. Yeah, as soon as you get a better idea, call me back and I'll give you the details." He snapped his phone shut without saying goodbye.

Lisa was still leaning over the sink, seeming to gather her energy. Inside, Jackson was boiling. _How dare she not tell me!?! And I was fucking standing right next to her and didn't even know!_

Seething, Jackson slammed his laptop closed, awaiting his next call.


	4. Chapter 4

Lisa woke up in the middle of the night. She often did, especially after hospital visits.

Shivering, she pulled her blankets around her as she looked at the clock. _2:28_. Well, at least she didn't have to work for the next few days. Usually, she'd be up and cooking eggs for herself, but in the last few months, the mere thought of it sickened her. With her unsettled stomach, her meal would come up five minutes after it went down. She turned to roll on her back and saw something glittering in the shadows by her window.

"Up about a half-hour early for eggs, aren't you, Leese?"

Lisa backpedaled, rolling off the opposite side of her bed as the glittering objects formed into Jackson's clear blue eyes, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. She kneeled at the side of her bed, reaching around for a weapon of any sort underneath it, keeping her head above the mattress line to track Jackson's movements. He merely laughed at her.

"Moved 'em already, Leese," he taunted. "I learn quickly. You, though ... that's a different story." He stood from his sitting position in her chair in the corner of her room. The rest of his tall, slender figure became apparent the minute the blue-hued moonlight hit him. His skin took a grayish tone, his hair turned a dark ashy color, and his eyes ... _well, his eyes were creepy anyway. But blue ... so blue._

Lisa felt for her small nightstand, feeling the knob on one of the drawers. Jackson clucked his tongue disapprovingly at her.

"Emptied that out, too. Lisa, I really am disappointed," h said, nearly laughing. He held his hands out at his sides, palms up, empty. At least he didn't have a weapon. "You're usually so ... what did I call you? _Creative!_ And now you're grasping at straws."

Lisa pulled the drawer open, feeling from its weight that it was empty. But it was still heavy enough to hurt. With a scream, she flung the shoebox-sized drawer straight at his shoulder, and it hit with a satisfying crack.

She jumped up, and the sudden blood rush dizzied her, causing her to stagger. Next thing she knew, she was back in her bed, with a very enraged Jackson staring down at her, holding her wrists above her head with one hand, her jaw in the other.

"Well ..." he seethed, exhaling through his nose angrily. "I can see that I underestimated you ... again." Lisa stuggled against him, but found that he was easily holding her in place. "Don't even bother trying to fight me, Leese. You and I both know that you're in too- ... _weak_ ... of a condition to be needing to fight me." Lisa narrowed her eyes at him.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she growled through clenched teeth. Jackson smirked, releasing her jaw and moving his now free hand to one of her wrists. He slid her hands down to rest on either side of her head, lacing his fingers through hers. Lisa frowned as he did so, wondering how an almost tender thought could find a place in his blackened heart. She yelped as his fingers suddenly tightened and pinned her hands to her mattress. _So much for tender._

"Don't lie to me, Lisa!" he rasped. Lisa saw the anger burning in his crystalline eyes, and she was vaguely reminded of the Dueling Dragons rollercoaster ride she had ridden on her trip to Islands of Adventure in Orlando four years ago. One of the dragons was red, and burned with fire. The other was blue, and burned with ice. Jackson was the blue dragon incarnate. She half-wondered what she would do if he started snorting cold steam. Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone against her hip.

"Looks like you've got a call," she hissed. Jackson laughed.

"Like I'm going to let you go so I can answer my phone."

"Really?" she sneered. "_What if it's work_?"

Jackson resisted the temptation to headbutt her. Sure, it had worked last time, but he got a bloody forehead from it. Besides, she wasn't too bad at headbutting, herself. She might return the favor.

"It isn't work, it's an associate of mine, calling with an answer to a question I asked him a few hours ago. And before you ask ... _yes_, I'm sure it is." Lisa glared at him.

"What do you want from me, this time, Jackson?" He smirked.

"Same thing I've always wanted from you, Leese. The truth."

"What the hell do you mean by that? The truth about what?"

"About why you're at the hospital so much. About why you're so sick. About why I never see you eat more than a few bites before you thow it back up. Ringing any bells, Leese?" Lisa jerked her knee up against his thigh in an attempt to dislodge him. Jackson bit back a groan.

"Are you still stalking me!?" He released her hands, and she instantly felt his hands grip the back of her knees, shoving them apart as his body fell between her legs, his hips pressing lightly against hers.

"That's so I don't get a knee straight to the groin, because I wouldn't put that past you," he growled, releasing her knees and placing his hands on either side of her shoulders. Lisa rubbed her hands in an attempt to regain circulation. "And to answer your question, yes. I'm still watching you. Now that I've answered your question, I'm going to ask mine, _one more time_, and I _better_ get an answer, or next time I won't ask so politely."

"My answer's the same as it was last time: _my life is none of your business!_" she hissed. "What is your obsession with me?!?"

"Obsession!?" Jackson growled. Lisa noted that he seemed to be doing a lot of that, now. Maybe it was the raspiness of his voice that made it seem like a growl. Or, maybe she was just pissing him off more. "Don't flatter yourself. And I'm not stalking, I'm watching. Like I told you during our last rendezvouz, I've got a personal interest."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like stalking at all, you're right," she spat sarcastically. "You know, when I heard your testimony, I thought that maybe- ... just maybe ... something in you changed. That maybe you were starting to become a better person. But now-" she held his gaze for a moment, "now, maybe I'm beginning to think that you haven't changed. Not one single bit. Maybe you're as pathetic now as you were before. _That_ ringing any bells for _you_, Jackson?"

_"You're pathetic." She breathed, still panting from their recent struggle. Jackson glared at her, exhaling loudly and seething with anger, then threw her over the banister._

Silence fell between them for a few long moments. She watched his eyes, the way they flickered over her, analyzing her very existence. She knew she should feel uncomfortable under his gaze, but to her surprise, she was able to stare back at him defiantly.

Jackson rolled off of her, standing next to her bed. She raised herself up onto her elbows, still staring at him.

"Make things easier for yourself and just tell me the truth, Leese. Because when you don't tell me the truth, I have to go dig for it. And you're not going to like it when I go digging, Lisa. I can guarantee it." And with that, he left her room. A few seconds later, she heard the front door slam shut.

Lisa sighed and laid back on her back, her stomach churning. She jumped as she heard her window slide open.

"Don't forget to lock your doors and windows. You remember what happened last time someone got into your house," Jackson whispered, his hands leaving steamy prints on the glass panes. Then he slid the window back down, and disappeared.

-

-

-

_Three Weeks Later ..._

Lisa sat in the waiting room, filling out paperwork. Her MP3 player was fully charged and she had brought her adapter, just in case. She was listening to her _Blues_ category right now, and tapped her foot lightly along to the Stevie Ray Vaughan song that was in her _Now Playing_ list. She looked up as a shadow fell over her.

"Ah, Lisa! I see you're back!" Lisa smiled at the elderly doctor standing in front of her. "Can't seem to keep you away from this place. People will start to think we're having an affair!" Lisa laughed at the silver-haired man's humor.

"What would your wife think?" she asked, filling in the dates on the various pieces of paper. Her doctor waited patiently.

"She'd think she's lucky to have a night away from me! After over fifty-three years of being married to me, wouldn't you be glad for a night off, too?" Lisa smirked at Doctor Harnassian and handed him the clipboard with the various forms and paperwork, all filled out neatly in her delicate penmanship.

"I've been visiting you for about a year now and I'm already tired of you," she joked back. She grabbed her purse and bag and followed him down the corridor. He flipped through the papers she had just finished filling out as they headed towards the elevator.

"Ooops, looks like you missed one here, Lisa." He handed it back to her, pointing to a blank signature line on the third page. Lisa caught sight of a man in a white coat walking past, and nearly dropped her pen. "Lisa? Are you alright?"

The man had dark brown hair, and walked past them at a leisurely gaze. _Not him again! Not Jackson! Not now!_

"Lisa?" She snapped out of her trance, and looked with wide eyes at Doctor Harnassian. "What is it?"

"It's him again! It's Jackson!" she hissed, nodding her head in the man's direction. Doctor Harnassian turned to the man who had passed. After a few seconds, he called out to him.

"Eric!" No answer. "Doctor Ortiz!" The man stopped suddenly, turning around. As he turned, Lisa felt her heart sink back down into her chest. The man definitely didn't have Jackson's sharp features. In fact, he had warm chocolate eyes, a well-kept beard, and wire-rimmed glasses. "Doctor Ortiz, I'd like you to meet a regular of mine. Lisa, this is Doctor Eric Ortiz; Eric, this is Lisa Reisert." The man held her gaze questioningly for a moment before breaking into a smile.

"Lisa Reisert! Of course! I remember going over your records not too long ago during my residency! Quite the miracle worker your cardiologist was, if I'm not mistaken. That was a ... what? Twelve-hour surgery? We had to watch the _full_ twelve hours!" Lisa smiled and shook the hand he extended to her. Finally, someone who didn't automatically bring up the red eye event at the mention of her name.

"She seemed to think you looked like her attacker, Jackson Rippner." Leave it to Doctor Harnassian to blow it for her. She gave a polite blush and smiled.

"I just caught a glimpse of the back of your head and had a mini-panic attack," she joked. Doctor Ortiz smiled and scratched at his hair nervously.

"Just don't go alerting security to my presence. I'm only three months out of my residency. I didn't go through hell just to get kicked out of the hospital for looking like a criminal!" he joked back.

"Well, we need to get going, Lisa. See you later today for lunch, maybe dinner?" Doctor Harnassian asked of Eric. The other doctor nodded and broke into a trot as his beeper went off.

"Sounds good. Gotta go, I've got a head injury coming in. Talk to you later!"

-

-

-

Jackson walked through the fifth floor lobby, heading toward the nurses' station. He wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, tennis shoes, scrubs, a stethoscope, and a white lab coat, with _Doctor J. O'Kieran_ pinned just above the pocket. A nurse looked up as he approached.

"Evening, Miss ... Sharon," Jackson greeted, taking a quick glance at her name tag. "I was paged about a patient, a Lisa ..." he looked through Lisa's medical file folder in his hands, pretending to search for her surname. "Reisert? Could you tell me which room I could find her in?"

Nurse Sharon clicked away at the keyboard, pulling up Lisa's information. "Room 1067. It's down the hallway, second left, first right, down the end of that hallway, hang a left. Her room will be down that hallway on the left."

"Thanks. You ladies have a nice evening." Jackson nodded politely at the other nurses behind the counter and mentally filed away her directions. He headed down the hallway, looking at the signs hanging from the ceiling as he passed the first intersection of hallways.

MRI  
EKG  
CARDIOLOGY

He passed through the intersection, heading to the second.

ONCOLOGY  
RADIOLOGY  
SURGERY

Jackson had an unsettling feeling suddenly come over him, as if a black cloud had descended upon him. He knew exactly what was wrong with Lisa. And he was absolutedly pissed. _How the fuck did she get pregnant? Camera feeds all over the goddamn house, and I never once saw a guy in there ... unless ..._ He snorted, then quickly looked around. Okay, no one saw him. That was good. It wouldn't be too good of a sight to see a "doctor" walking down the hallway, suddenly laughing to himself. They'd probably consider sending him straight to the psych ward, where they'd give him a different type of white jacket to wear. One a little less comfortable.

_So, she was sleeping over at some other guy's house? No way. Stonewall Lisa wasn't the type of person to spend the night over at some random guy's house, having unprotected sex._ But, yet, she managed to get pregnant somehow. Accident? _Like she planned it, you fuckin' idiot! If she had, she'd have the ring on her finger and the white picket fence would be going up around the front yard already!_

Jackson stopped as the full realization of what must've happened to her hit him. _Not again._

_"Someone do that to you?"_ He remembered how disgusted he had been in the bathroom on the airplane. Not at her, but at the man who had violated her. He told himself that if the job called for it, he'd be able to do the same thing, but when reality set in, he half-doubted himself. There was something so devastating about breaking someone in that fashion that brought bile to the back of his throat, just like when Lisa voiced the realization that Keefe's family would be with him in the hotel room when the assassination was to take place. The moment she said it, he had to swallow against the bitter taste threatening to rise up to his throat at the thought of an innocent wife and two innocent children being blown up so that one man could be taken out to "send a big, brash message". But, a job was a job, and he had been paid to take out Keefe, and if his family happened to be there with him, then there was nothing he could do about it.

He shook his head as he regained his original train of thought. Lisa was pregnant. He wanted to slit the man's throat that had knocked her up. She wouldn't have gotten pregnant voluntarily. Anger began bubbling in his chest. He was going to face Lisa tonight; let her know that he knew what was going on. See how she deals with him this time. He had given her plenty of opportunities, too many, to give him the truth, and she had refused, so he had done as he had promised he would: he went digging. Now, with her medical file under one arm, he headed to her room.

He took a left, heading to the next hallway. A new sign redirected him.

ONCOLOGY  
RADIOLOGY  
SURGERY

Hang a right, go down to the end of the hallway, head left. He headed right, down the next sterile, white hallway. A chill ran up his spine, and for some reason, that _one scene_ from _The Shining_ popped into his head. He imagined twin girls in dresses standing at the end of the hallway, and the trippy visual effect that used to confuse him when he was younger. He could never tell if the hallway looked like it was getting longer, or shorter.

He made his way down the hallway, one foot in front of the other. He couldn't help but peer into the rooms as he passed them. The first room was dark except for the blue glow from the television as the elderly patient flipped through the channels. The next few rooms had their blinds closed. The next five after that held a mixture of elderly and middle-aged patients, all either talking to someone or busying themselves in one way or another. _What was Lisa doing in this section of the hospital?_

He sighed and readjusted the stethoscope around his neck. As he looked up and peered into one of the rooms to his left, he saw a sight that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.

A child, probably no older than seven or eight, lay in bed, watching cartoons. Save for the few balloons surrounding her bed, the room was the same stark, sterile white as the rest of the hospital. She coughed lightly, then scratched at the back of her bald head. The action caused her stuffed animal to slide over the side of the bed and onto the floor. She saw the animal hit the floor and seemed to contemplate how to rescue it.

Jackson felt his heart break inside. In two quick strides, he was at her door, opening it and peeking his head in.

"Need some help?"he asked, plastering on his best 'good doctor' smile. The girl nodded, and Jackson entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"Rex fell," she explained simply. Jackson walked to her bedside, glancing quickly inside one of her Get Well Soon cards before stooping to reach the fallen stuffed ferret.

"Well, let's see if we can dust him off for you, Sarah," he offered, using the name from the inside of her card and brushing the dust off of her stuffed animal before handing it back to her. He gave a cautious glance around the room. "You uh ... here all by yourself?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. She nodded.

"My mom and dad usually stay in a hotel close to the hospital the night before my chemo treatments," she responded. Jackson suddenly felt uneasy.

"Sorry to hear that." He gave her a nod and headed toward the door. "Get some rest." His hand was on the doorknob as her voice caught his attention again.

"You're new, aren't you?" she asked with a slight smile.

"Yeah, I'm Doctor O'Kieran," he answered, turning to face her.

"I'm Sarah. I've got lung cancer." She fiddled with her stuffed animal absentmindedly. "They said I got it because my mom and dad smoke. I think that's why they don't spend a lot of time in here. I think I make them feel guilty." Jackson was floored by her insight. For a kid, she was pretty intuitive.

"I can see how that would make them feel that way," he replied. Almost as an afterthought, "Do you blame them for your cancer?" She shrugged, her eyes fixated on her stuffed ferret.

"I don't know. Sometimes, I guess." She moved her gray eyes back to him. "I guess I've always heard that it's no one's fault if someone gets cancer, but then there's always a reason that it happens, you know?" She averted her eyes. "But sometimes, I blame them. I asked them to quit smoking a long time ago and they never did. I guess I felt like they decided smoking was more important than their own kid." Jackson grabbed a chair and spun it around backwards, taking a seat.

"Do you get a sense of vindiction when they see you like this?" he asked. Sarah frowned.

"What's fin-dish-in?" Jackson bit back a laugh, but cracked a smile.

"No, not 'fin-dish-in' ... _vindiction._ Do you feel like it serves them right? When they come in here and see their kid in a hospital bed, getting chemo treatments ... do you ever just want to go, 'See, I told you to quit smoking. Now look what you did to me.' and just kind of rub it in their faces?" The second he explained it, he realized how cold he had made her condition seem. He instantly wished he could reword it.

"All the time" she responded automatically. Jackson was surprised by her answer. "I know I'm not supposed to think that, but I do. But they don't come to see me very often. They only come every now and then for chemo treatments, and they never come for radiation treatments."

"They can't deal with the guilt," Jackson surmised. "Some people are weak like that." Sarah frowned at him. He immediately felt the need to explain his choice of words. "They don't mean to be weak, it's just that, sometimes ... people just have to suck it up and take what's coming to them. They have to learn responsibility for their actions." All was quiet except for the white noise emitted by the show on the TV. "Sarah, can I ask you something?" She looked up at him and nodded. "If you had one wish, what would it be?" She frowned and looked back down at her ferret.

"I wish I had someone who'd come visit me, other than my mom and dad. But they hardly ever come, as it is." Jackson gave a sad smile and stood as an idea seized him. He'd love to see Lisa worm her way out of this one.

"How does next Monday at 7 p.m. sound?" Her face lit up. "Me, you, a movie ... and if I can get her to come, I'll bring a friend." Sarah's face shone.

"What movie?" she asked excitedly. Jackson shrugged.

"What movie do you want to see?"

"Ice Age!" she exclaimed. Not a moment's hesitation from the young girl. Jackson smiled.

"Ice Age it is, then. I'll see you Monday at seven, then?" She laughed.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," she deadpanned. Jackson headed to the door and gave her a smile, one of the ones he reserved for when he really meant it.

"Until Monday then." Jackson closed the door and smiled as he continued down the hallway. _Perfect!_ Force Lisa to come down here to visit an ill child, let the gravity of the girl's situation pull at her heartstrings for a while, then see how long it took before Lisa finally spilled her own sob story of how she had become pregnant. He was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

-

-

-

Jackson headed back to the end of the hallway and looked at the sign again. He knew he had followed the nurse's directions perfectly, so how had he ended up here?

ONCOLOGY  
SURGERY  
ELEVATORS  
RESTROOMS

Apparently, the Oncology and Surgery departments took up a large section of this floor of the hospital. _Where the hell is the pregnant chicks' section?_ He then noticed another sign, much smaller than the first, beneath the ward directory.

ROOMS 1041 - 1060  
ROOMS 1061 - 1080

He hung a left, heading down to Room 1067, Lisa's room. Maybe he wasn't lost, after all. He counted the numbers on the left _... 1061 ... 1063 ... 1065 ... 1067._ He stopped, taking a deep breath and glancing through her window. He saw her laying on her side, her fingers curled slightly on her pillow. She seemed to be resting, her hair tucked neatly behind her ear, except for a single strand that fell in front of her eyes, shaking every time she exhaled.

Jackson opened the door carefully, quietly. It closed behind him with a nearly inaudible click. He flipped the lock in place and grabbed the chart off the end of her bed. He started to flip through it, but decided it would be easier to read sitting down. Looking around, he saw a chair sitting next to her bed. _No doubt Joe was sitting there earlier._ He moved soundlessly to the chair and sat down, readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. As he leaned back and started to read the chart, his arm knocked against an object on the table next to her bed. It was a worn old hardback. A Bible. He smiled at the adhesive tabs she had added to the pages, marking the different books. The tabs marking books in the Old Testament were on top, then, three-fourths of the way through the bible, the tabs were applied to the bottoms of the pages, marking the books of the New Testament. He reached for it and pulled it into his lap, opening the front cover. A piece of paper slid out and landed in his lap. A list of Bible verses were written neatly in Lisa's cursive penmanship.

_**Jeremiah 29:11-13  
**Romans 8:18-21  
Psalm 46:1-3  
Isaiah 41:10  
**Phillippians 4:6-7**  
Colossians 3:2-4  
**Colossians 3:8  
Colossians 3:9**  
**Colossians 3:12-16  
**Isaiah 40:29-31  
**2 Corinthians 12:8-10 ++**  
Psalm 73:21-26  
**++ 1 Peter 3:17 ++**_

Jackson gave Lisa a wary glance before carefully opening the book and thumbing through the pages to the first passage she had written down. _Jeremiah 29:11-13_. He saw that throughout the passage, she had underlined and highlighted certain areas of text.

_"For I know of the plans I have for you," says the LORD. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me in earnest, you will find me when you seek me."_

Lisa stirred in her bed, her head moving slightly on the pillow. The strand of hair in her face now fell directly against her skin, and Jackson knew that if he didn't move it, it would irritate her when it vibrated with each breath she took, and she'd eventually wake. Gently, carefully, he reached forward and slid the strand back behind her ear. Satisfied, he flipped to Phillippians 4:6-7.

_"Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is **far more wonderful** than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."_

'Obviously going through some serious insecurity issues,' Jackson thought. Collossians 3:2-4. He decided to skip through the first few verses, down to verse 8, where the underlining and highlighting began again.

_"But now is the time to get rid of **anger, rage, malicious behavior**, slander, and dirty language."_

Then verse 9, which she had emphasized with a star.

_"**Don't lie to each other**, for you have stripped off your old evil nature and all its wicked deeds."_

Jackson smiled as he realized she must've been thinking about him when she starred it. He followed the verse numbers down to verse 12, where she had listed verses 12-16 on her piece of paper.

_"Since God chose you to be the holy people whom he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. You must make allowance for each other's faults and forgive the person who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. And the most important piece of clothing you must wear is love. Love is what binds us all together in perfect harmony. And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are all called to live in peace. And **always be thankful**."_

Jackson let that one digest for a moment. She was obviously on a roll with finding verses that related to their ... experience. Was she trying to forgive him? Or maybe her previous attacker? He shook his head in an effort to clear it and moved back to the New Testament to 2 Corinthians 12:8-10.

_"Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, 'My gracious favor is all you need. **My power works best in your weakness**.' So now **I am glad to boast about my weaknesses**, so that the power of Christ may work through me. Since I know it is all for Christ's good, **I am quite content with my weaknesses and with insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamaties.**"_ Jackson stared at the last line, which Lisa had underlined three times. "_**For when I am weak, then I am strong**_." Jackson smiled at the irony of it all and moved back to Psalm 73:21-26.

_"Then I realized-"_

"Which one are you on?" Jackson jumped and the Bible slammed to the ground. His turquoise eyes turned on her as she gave him a sly smile that clearly let him know he was busted.

"If you must know-" He reached down and picked the Bible up from the floor, along with the piece of paper. He inspected it for a moment. "Psalm 73, verses 21-26." He opened the book again to the passage. "The one that says, _'Then I realized-_"

_"Then I realized how bitter I had become,"_ Lisa interrupted, reciting from memory. _"How pained I had been by all I had seen. I was so foolish and arrogant --- I must have seemed like a senseless animal to you. Yet I still belong to you; you are holding my right hand. You will keep on guiding me with your counsel, leading me to glorious destiny. Whom have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth. My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever."_ Jackson scoffed as she finished.

"Given up Doctor Phil for God?" he asked, looking down at the paper. The last passage, 1 Peter 3:17, had been starred twice. "What's this last one on here? First Peter, chapter 3, verse 17? Must be a good one, since you've got that one starred twice," he remarked with a smirk. Lisa narrowed her eyes at him and recited that passage from memory, as well.

_"Remember, it is better to suffer for doing good, if that is what God wants, than to suffer for doing wrong!"_ Her emerald eyes flashed venomously. "Call that one a motto, of sorts." Jackson laughed as he set the Bible and the paper back on her desk, then turned back to her medical chart.

"Really? I thought it was more along the lines of, 'Stab first, kick second, shoot third,'" he joked. Lisa yanked the clipboard out of his hands and clutched it to her chest.

"Why are you here, Jackson? It's been three weeks, this time. I take it you've deliberated long and hard on your answer for me?" Jackson gave her a questioning look. "I asked you last time I saw you here at the hospital why you risked everything to save my life, remember? Then you walked away without answering." Jackson smirked and folded his hands in his lap.

"Jury's still out on that one," he replied. "I've got about twenty different possible answers for that, and I'm not sure which one's the right one." Lisa opened her mouth to speak, but Jackson quickly cut her off. "Nice setup you've got going here. You're in here for what, again? Oh wait! That's right, your personal life is none of my business, right?"

"Until I can find a more polite way to say it, yes," she answered seriously. Jackson smirked.

"Oh, c'mon Leese ... surely you remember your Bible study ... _'Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.'_ That was how it went, right?" He threw her passages back in her face. Lisa seemed to be swallowing a jagged, bitter pill.

"Maybe I just don't want to tell you."

"Why not?" Jackson countered.

"Because I'm not looking for pity anymore. I've given up the role of the victim."

"Well, then, Leese, let's see what your medical file says you're a victim of this time, since you're hoarding your chart." Lisa paled as Jackson opened the file folder and stood, reading aloud. "Lisa H. Reisert. Hair: Red. Eyes: Green. Blah, blah, blah. Skip to the good part ... ah, the diagnosis! Patient-" He paused, color draining from his face. Lisa looked up, tears brimming her eyes.

"Go ahead and say it, Jackson," she hissed. "I've got cancer."

-

-

-

Jackson felt his throat and mouth moving in an attempt to form words, but nothing came out. His throat had seemingly clenched into a tight, constricting knot, causing a burning pain that seared down through his chest and up through his head to a spot right behind his eyes.

"That was what you wanted, right," Lisa spat, her lips quivering, "to get rid of me? To finally 'finish the job'?" She snorted a laugh. "Well, looks like God's beaten you to the punch."

Jackson glanced up at her for a split second, but found that he couldn't hold her gaze and instead moved his eyes back to the diagnosis.

_Patient currently at Stage 2. Chemo & RT advised._

_CNCR FND N BRST/LMYPH NDS. CHMO + RAD THRPY BGN IMDTLY UNTL FRTHR TSTNG. BGN PTNT ON ANTI-EM MEDS 2 COUNTR NAUSEA._

The doctors' shorthanded notes blurred momentarily in front of Jackson. He looked at the date of the first notes on the previous page.

"Lisa ..." Lisa looked up as Jackson growled her name through clenched teeth. "What _the fuck_ is this?" She steeled herself as he flipped the clipoard around, his finger pointing at the first line of chicken scratch. "Two days after the flight, Leese," he rasped. "_Two. Fuckin'. **DAYS!**_" She jumped as he flung it across the room, his hand shooting out to clench around her upper arm. White-hot bolts of pain seared down her arm.

"Let _go_, Jackson! You're hurting me!"

"You were diagnosed with cancer, _two days after the flight_, and said _not a word_ about it? Huh?" He began to see red as he thought of everything he had been missing. What else didn't he know about her?

"Since when are you on my calling tree, _Jack_?" She hissed, yanking her arm free from his vice-like grip. "I don't remember you and me being all buddy-buddy on that plane, especially when you were throwing me around, and threatening me and my dad!" Jackson took a few steps back, turning away to thrust his hands angrily on his hips and begin pacing. "You'll forgive me if I hated you after those incidents!"

Jackson spun and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Lisa glared at him expectantly.

"What, Jackson? Huh? Where's your witty retort? Your burning reply, huh?" A few seconds passed, still nothing. "Answer me, Jackson!" He looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth. "**ANSWER ME!**" She screamed.

Jackson stood there helplessly, and turned, heading to the door. He opened it a few inches before turning. "This'll be the second time I walk out on you at the hospital without giving you an answer," he said softly. Jackson turned back and opened the door the rest of the way and exited, closing it softly behind him.

The last glance he gave her made Lisa feel for all the world like she had just kicked a puppy who was just trying to play.

-

-

-

Jackson sat in his car, listening to the rain silently beating on the metal roof. This wasn't happening again. Not to her. Not like the other-

He shook his head and ran his hands roughly over his face a few times and then through his hair in an attempt to revitalize himself. Think, think, think ...

His cell phone suddenly buzzed, causing him to jump. He flipped it open without looking at the caller I.D.

"Rippner."

"I hear that you have been trying to schedule a meeting with me, to no avail." The heavily accented voice on the other end of the line made Jackson cringe.

"Yes, sir, I've been trying to get ahold of y-"

"You must forgive me, as things are quite ... delicate ... at the moment, as I am sure you are aware, no?"

"Yes, sir," Jackson replied. No need to elaborate.

"I talked to my assistant, and she has cleared a portion of one of the days on my calendar so that you and I may have a discussion." Jackson felt a slight shudder run down his spine as he thought of all the possible meanings that the word could have in their industry. "I will be in touch." And with that, the line went dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Joe Reisert walked through the door to Lisa's hospital room, peering in to see his daughter sitting up in bed, dressed in her sweatpants and a Miami Hurricanes hoodie. He knocked on the doorframe lightly, causing her to look up.

"Hey, Dad," she mumbled, weakly pushing her sleeves up to her elbows and making a feeble attempt to pull her hair back in a ponytail.

"Need some help with that?" Joe asked, setting down the donuts and coffee he had brought in. Lisa shook her head, struggling with the stretchy clinging to her wrist. "Are you sure? Because you look like hell," he said with a small laugh. Lisa gave another weak smile as she finally wrapped the stretchy around her messy curls and let go of it with a satisfying _snap!_

"Well, if I look like hell, ain't no use in gussying up," she replied. "You can go ahead and take me back to my place, this time, Dad. I know Regina's going to be there at your place tonight, so I'll stay out of your guys' way." Joe looked shocked.

"Lisa! Honey! We don't mind having you there at the house; you're my daughter, for Christ's sake-"

"_Dad!_" Lisa shouted. "Language!" Joe rolled his eyes. "I know you mean well, and everything, it's just- ... I'm not comfortable around that woman, yet." She fidgeted with a piece of lint on her sweatpants. "Besides, I'll be fine at my place, I can take care of myself. I know you don't want to see me puking all over the place, or turning green at the slightest scent of anything remotely aromatic."

Joe moved the wheelchair from its position near the door over to Lisa's bed. "Lisa, your chemo treatments take so much out of you. You can barely function for a few days. I'd much rather have you over at my place, where I can take care of you. That's what fathers do for their daughters." Lisa forced an apologetic smile.

"I know, it's just that-" She paused, thinking back to her most recent encounter with Jackson from the night before. "I've got a lot of stuff on my mind right now, and I want to work some things out all by myself without having other people around." She saw the dejected look on her father's face. "No! Daddy! I don't mean anything personal by it! I just ... I've got a lot of thinking to do, and I don't feel comfortable being sick around people, and I'd much rather stick it out by my lonesome. Okay? So ... can you just drop me off at my place?" _That way, if Jackson decides to keep tabs on me, I at least won't be luring him over to Dad's place._

Joe finally sighed an 'okay' and held out the wheelchair for her, which she slid into. "Okay, kiddo, let's take you home."

-

-

-

After her father left, Lisa locked the door and shuffled into the kitchen. She reached under the sink for her Rubbermaid bucket and shoved a small plastic trash bag into it.

Cancer Treatment 101: Always have a puke pail handy.

_Boy, if I didn't learn **that** one the hard way!_ After her first chemo treatment session, she had spilled the contents of her stomach all over her kitchen floor due to lack of 'supplies'. She now made sure she always had a puke recepticle on hand.

She continued her shuffling all the way into the living room. Sighing, she set the Rubbermaid bucket next to the couch and flung herself down on the cushions before falling asleep.

-

-

-

Jackson had been waiting in the hall closet for nearly an hour. Joe had left about twenty minutes ago, and Lisa had been up and about for the next ten minutes, but had been silent for the past ten. _Must've passed out._

A sudden retching sound caught his attention.

_Must've woke up._

He decided he no longer wanted to stay in hiding and slid the door open carefully, stepping out into the hallway. He followed the retching sounds into the living room, where he saw Lisa hanging over the side of the couch, vomiting into a plastic bucket. He made a quick detour to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel and a glass from the cupboard. He filled the glass with water and took a sip before heading back to the living room. Lisa was still vomitting intermittently. She paused after the heaving stopped, catching her breath.

"You're going to get puke in your hair."

Lisa looked up slowly, seeing Jackson standing at the edge of her living room. The second she acknowledged his presence, he moved forward, stepping closer to her. Lisa tore her eyes away from him as she felt her stomach contract, forcing her light breakfast and lunch up again. She felt the cushion next to her sink as Jackson sat down. He set the paper towel and glass of water down on the coffee table and turned back to Lisa, pulling the rebellious curls that had fallen from her haphazard ponytail away from her face. Her body trembled as she continued to dry heave, her stomach empty but still nauseated. She felt a hand between her shoulderblades.

"It's okay. It'll pass, Leese," she heard him murmur as he slowly moved his hand in a circle on her back. She sniffled a few times before wiping the tears from the side of her face and sliding her upper body back onto the couch. "Here, Lisa." She looked over at Jackson, who held out the paper towel. She gave him a cautious look before taking it from him. She wiped at her eyes, then her mouth. "Take a couple drinks, it'll make you feel better." She threw the paper towel into the bucket and accepted the glass of water, gulping down a third of it to rinse the acidic bile taste from her mouth. Once the taste was gone, she took careful sips, feeling her breathing begin to return to normal.

"How long have you been here?" She handed the glass back to Jackson, who set it on the end table next to the couch and shrugged.

"Got here about an hour before your dad dropped you off." He noticed she was still shaking from her previous exertion. He grabbed a pillow and set it in his lap before pulling at the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. "Here ... lay down, put your head in my lap." She paused, giving him an incredulous stare.

"You've _got_ to be kidding." When he didn't respond, she realized he was being serious. "Look, I don't know how _stupid_ you think I am, but-"

"How stupid I think you are has nothing to do with this situation," he replied curtly. He shook the blanket out a few times and looked back at her, fixing his gaze on her face. "Leese ... you're nauseous, you're shaking, and you're exhausted. While I agree that this would be the perfect opportunity to pull a fast one on you, if I was going to do that, I would've done it a while ago, wouldn't you think?" Lisa shrugged and continued watching him warily. "Now lay your head down on the pillow so I can cover you up." He gestured to the pillow in his lap. Lisa sighed, too tired to fight, and rested her head on the pillow. She felt the blanket settle over her as Jackson tucked it in around her.

"And what are you going to do while I'm laying here?" She asked weakly. She felt his legs shift under her head slightly as he slid his feet out of his shoes and propped them up on the coffee table.

"I'm going to watch the episode of LOST that you DVR'd, then channel surf until Glenn Beck comes on at nine." Lisa smiled to herself as she heard the remote rattle on the end table and then heard the electric hum of her TV turning on. She closed her eyes as she settled into the couch and Jackson's lap. She felt him pull the stretchy out of her hair, loosing her curls.

"What are you do-"

"Don't worry about it. Go to sleep," he replied. Sighing, she settled back down and closed her eyes again. She felt his fingers running through her curls absentmindedly before rubbing small circles at her temple.

She vaguely heard Sawyer calling Kate 'Freckles' before she was lulled asleep.

-

-

-

A grating noise, followed by a low bang, roused Jackson from his sleep. He opened his eyes carefully, expecting to see sunlight streaming in through the windows. Instead, he was met with the deep gray-blue of the five o'clock morning hour. He looked around and saw Lisa's lithe form tucked up in the heavy blanket, with her head now laying next to his legs. The pillow that had been resting between his lap and her head now lay abandoned on the floor. Another grating noise, followed by a mechanical whirring caught his attention.

Jackson carefully stood up, making sure not to wake Lisa. He took a few strides to the window, pulling the blinds back cautiously. He nearly laughed at the sight of what had set him on edge.

The local garbagemen were emptying trash cans into the back of their truck and compacting the contents with their hydraulic system.

Jackson released the blinds and shoved his hands into his pockets. He peered back at the prone figure on the couch, and made his way back to her. Gathering his keys and cell phone from the coffee table, he bent over her and paused. Finally, after a few seconds of mental debate, he closed the last few inches between them, placing his lips against her temple. He gave her a soft kiss and ruffled her hair slightly before grabbing his shoes and standing.

"Take care, Leese," he mumbled, heading toward the door.

-

-

-

Lisa jerked awake, squinting at the light emanating from the TV. She placed a hand against the side of her forehead, remembering the feeling of Jackson's lips pressed against her skin. Her rational side shuddered at the thought. A deeper, more irrational side within her began to merrily skip around through fields filled with butterflies, rainbows, flowers, and puppies.

She sat up instantly, feeling the blood rush pound through her head. After letting her eyes adjust, she glanced at the time above the news ticker on the bottom of the TV screen. _1:43 a.m. What?_ Steadying herself, she cast a glance to her left.

Jackson lay slumped against the arm of the sofa, with his feet still propped up on the coffee table, the remote still in his hand, and his left arm tucked under his head. Dead asleep to the world.

_A dream_, Lisa sighed. It had all been a dream. A weird, out-of-body-experience, third-person dream. She had another three and a half hours before the trash truck came. He never kissed her, never ruffled her hair. _Thank God,_ her rational side chimed. Her irrational side was still too busy skipping through that damn warm and fuzzy field because of that stupid dream. She contemplated laying back down, but a light flashing on the coffee table caught her attention. Jackson's cell phone.

Should she? All she had to do was pick it up, look at the caller ID, set it back down. Before she could make her decision, the flashing abruptly stopped. Her interest piqued, she quickly reached for the phone and looked at the LCD screen.

_1 New TXT  
1:46 a.m._

Without a second thought, Lisa flipped open the phone and watched the screen flash to life. She quickly navigated to the Message Inbox and searched for the new text message. Her blood ran cold as the message populated on the screen.

_Stop letting the Reisert bitch distract you, and DO. YOUR. FUCKING. JOB!_

Lisa steeled herself and glared at Jackson, mentally willing him to wake up and face her wrath. _First of all_, where the _hell_ does this person get off calling her a bitch!? And second, what _exactly_ is she distracting him from doing? Not wanting to wait any longer for an answer, she poked a finger into Jackson's arm.

"Jackson," she whispered. He stirred momentarily, then seemed to settle into a more comfortable position. Lisa reached out again, this time grabbing his arm and shaking him lightly. "Jackson!" she hissed, feeling anger bubbling in her gut. She watched as his eyes squinted open slightly, blinking at the light from the TV. He clicked the remote and the TV turned off, filling the room with a staticky fizzing noise for a few seconds before becoming silent.

"What is it, Leese?" he asked, sliding his feet off of the coffee table, and letting the numb extremities bang with a dull thud against the floor as his heels made contact with the ground. An unpleasant pins-and-needles tingling sensation skittered up his calves, making his skin crawl.

"Care to explain?" She threw his phone into his lap and crossed her arms angrily across her chest as she waited for an explanation. Jackson glanced at the message. An uneasy tension constricted his chest.

"Not really, I don't." He closed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, before glancing back at Lisa. She fixed him with a saddened gaze.

"You know, Jackson, every time I begin to think you've changed, you prove me wrong." With what little light there was, Jackson could see disappointment written clearly across her features. "You were being so ... different, so nice, earlier tonight. And now, I-" Lisa paused, and Jackson wasn't sure if she was getting emotional or simply struggling to find the right words. "I don't know if I can trust you or believe anything you say or do."

Jackson snorted. "First of all, Leese, I've never claimed to be a changed man. Whether or not you're putting me up on a pedestal is your own probl-"

"I'm not putting you up on a pedestal, Jackson!" Lisa exclaimed in a hurt tone. "I just thought that-"

"Just thought what? Huh, Lisa?" Jackson argued. "Thought that I could change into some white knight to rescue you from your woes? Thought I could become an honest-to-goodness humanitarian? Face the facts, Leese! I am who I am, and I'm not going to change into something different just because you expect it of me!" A silence fell between them. Lisa gathered her blanket in her lap and shoved a stray lock behind her ear.

"You said you never lied to me," she said softly. Her eyes were downcast, looking at the floor, refusing to look at him. "That's all I ever really expected of you. And now I'm beginning to think everything you are is one big lie." She paused, swallowing hard. "I'm not sure what to believe anymore." Jackson noticed the hitch in her voice, and when she suddenly stood and shoved past him, he knew she was fighting back tears. "You can let yourself out." He heard her stomping up the stairs, and her bedroom door slammed a few seconds later.

Sighing, Jackson looked at his phone again before sliding his feet into his shoes. A few minutes later, he opened her front door, flipped the lock on her doorknob, and closed it behind him.

-

-

-

Lisa woke the next morning to the sound of her radio blaring the local Top 40 station. She groaned and slammed her hand on the power button, instantly ceasing the obnoxious rap music. A headache pounded behind her temples, and she dreaded getting out of bed.

After a few minutes, she let her legs slide over the side of the bed and she pulled herself into a sitting position. She instantly regretted it. The throbbing ache started at the base of her neck, working her way up the back of her skull, signaling the beginnings of a tension headache. She could taste the bile in the back of her throat from having vomitted so much the previous night.

With a groan, Lisa stood and shuffled to the doorway tiredly. She navigated her way down the stairs and into the living room, cringing at the thought of pulling the vomit-filled trash bag out of the Rubbermaid container. However, she knew it would be a much worse job if she didn't have the trash bag in there.

She finished cleaning her kitchen and living room before grabbing her phone and a glass of water and settling herself on a bar chair at the island in her kitchen. With a sigh, she dialed a too-familiar number and waited for an answer.

"Good morning! Thank you for calling the Lux Atlantic, this is Cynthia. May I assist you with a reservation?"

"Cynthia, it's me," Lisa croaked.

"Hey Lis- oh! God, you sound horrible! Are you alright!?" Cynthia asked worriedly. "Is your treatment making you sick?"

Lisa tiredly ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, Cynth, it's got me sick in a bad way, this morning. I feel like shit."

"Yeah, well you sound like it, too! At least you get every other two weeks off for it. Could you imagine having to come in after that?" Cynthia postulated. Lisa shook her head slowly, then realized that the other redhead wouldn't be able to see her response.

"No, I definitely couldn't. So, anyway, I'm just calling in to see how everything's going. Having any problems? Anyone giving you a hard time?"

"Nope!" Lisa could practically hear Cynthia's smile. "Nothing I can't handle! I swear, Lisa, those management classes you signed me up for were _amazing_! I feel like I can diffuse practically anything!"

"Well, that's good Cynthia, I'm glad that-"

"Actually," Cynthia interrupted, "hold that thought. Bob and Marianne Taylor are heading this way. No doubt to complain, or to checkout. Or both. I'll give you a call later, okay?" She hung up before Lisa could respond.

Sighing, Lisa turned the phone off and laid her head on the counter, pressing her cold glass against her forehead.

-

-

-

Jackson stood next to his BMW at a gas station just outside of Adams, a town off of I-75 in northern Florida, nearly 6 hours north of Miami. He waited patiently as the numbers on the gas pump continued rolling over as he filled up. A chirping noise emanated from his pocket, signaling an incoming call. Jackson quickly pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open.

"Rippner," he answered.

"Finally pulled yourself out from between the Reisert bitch's legs to do your fucking job, I see." Jackson gritted his teeth and took a few breaths before responding.

"I'm just outside of the Georgia border." He contemplated his next word choices carefully. "And don't you _ever_ talk about me like that _ever_ again, got that, Henson? I haven't spent the last 12 years with this company to have my professionalism questioned by a rookie like you." He was practically seething at Henson's insinuation. "I'm the upper echelon, rook. Make comments like that again, and I'll see to it that you get an entirely different type of 'retirement' altogether."

Henson merely scoffed. "Let me break it down for you, Jackson ... you're not our company's poster boy anymore! You're out of the good graces! I don't see why the boss doesn't get rid of you, mob-style." Jackson wanted to rip the kid's throat out. "All that aside, however, the higher-ups would like me to deliver a message to you. They want you to get your job done by tonight, or they call out The Cleaners and you don't get a paycheck," Henson sneered.

Jackson lifted the gas nozzle and set it back in its niche at the pump, twisted the gas cap closed, and flipped the cap cover closed as he waited for his receipt to print. "Henson, you are on my last nerve right now. You better hope to _God_ my next assignment doesn't send me anywhere near you up there in Denver because I'll rip your throat out if I come near you! You don't _ever_ talk to me like that." He ripped his receipt out of the printer and reached into his pocket for his keys. "The job'll be done tonight, tell them they've got nothing to worry about. Now don't ever fuckin' call me again. Understand, rook?" He slammed his phone shut and quickly got into his car, pulled out of the gas station, and continued heading north along I-75.


	6. Chapter 6

Lisa sat on the couch, sipping at her mug of green tea. She had just finished a forty-five minute phone call with Cynthia, which, in her opinion, was forty-three minutes too long. What had started off as a "How are things?" quick call from Cynthia had evolved into a three-quarters of an hour conversation about the new guy at work (on whom Cynthia had quickly developed a crush), the renovations on the top floor, the car Cynthia was thinking about buying, the newest weight-loss diet to hit the Miami area, the forecast for this year's hurricane season, and finally, the utterance of Jackson's name. Lisa felt a thrill run through her veins when Cynthia mentioned him, as if they had broached a taboo subject, and an adrenaline-fed shudder ran along her spine.

_"So ... any word on that Jackson creep?" Cynthia asked, her voice a mixture of disgust and taunt. "Haven't heard much about him since the trial."_

_Lisa chewed the inside of her lip, wondering how much to tell Cynthia. So far, no one else knew about Jackson's visits. "Oh ... you know ... things are pretty quiet around here. Nothing to report really." She didn't like lying to her friend, but the risks associated with involving Cynthia in anything relating to Jackson had to be high. Better to keep her in the dark, for the most part._

_"You know, I always wondered - and please don't think I'm screwed up in the head when I say this, because I know it's going to sound that way - what he'd be like away from his job. You know?" Cynthia paused, which allowed Lisa to replay memories of Jackson waiting for her at the Tex-Mex. "Because when I saw him there in the courtroom, he seemed tame enough. And those eyes! God, Lisa, they were gorgeous! Did you see them!?!"_

_"Yeah, Cynth, I saw them alright," Lisa answered with a slight laugh. "They were what pulled me in, in the first place, they were just so ..."_

_"Blue!" both women exclaimed at once. Girlish laughter followed for a few seconds before Cynthia continued._

_"But, you know what I mean? I just kept sitting there thinking, 'If I had a guy who looked and acted like the way he was acting in that courtroom, come up and ask me out, I'd say yes in a heartbeat,' and I'm wondering how awful of a person that makes me?" She paused again. "Wonder what he'd be like in bed?" she ventured._

_"Cynthia!" Lisa gasped out._

_"Oh, come on, Lisa! You're sick, not dead! Don't try acting like the blushing virgin! I know you've got hot, red, vixen blood running through those veins!" Lisa felt her cheeks flush. "Every female in that courtroom was undressing him with her eyes, and thinking how she could sneak him out past those security guards and manage to get him back to her bedroom!" Cynthia laughed. "Admittedly, myself included."_

_"Oh ... okay, okay!" Lisa ceded. "You know what, Cynth? You're right, okay? He's handsome, he's charming, he's got the eyes, and the cheekbones, and the smile, and he knows just what to say ..." She took a deep breath, feeling as if she had just admitted a scandalous secret. "But, he's got a lot underneath that, just waiting to come to the surface. And when it does," an involuntary shudder ran through her body, "he's not Prince Charming anymore. Believe me, I would know." She heard Cynthia taking a sip of something on the other line._

_"But ... he can't be all that bad, Lisa. I mean, you were saying how nice he was at that little airport restaurant before you got on the plane, right? And how he helped you out in line, and how he was Mr. Charming when you guys were getting ready for takeoff ... There's gotta be something in there that's human about him."_

_Lisa nodded, not realizing that her counterpart wouldn't be able to see the gesture. "I think there is, Cynthia, I really do. But ... it's been hidden so deep, and for so long ... I don't think he knows it's there anymore. It's too black inside of his heart to know where to look, sometimes, I think. I wonder what he would've been like, though, if he had never started his profession of arranging people's deaths. Like ... would he even have been there at that airport that night? And if he was, would he have been the charmer that he was at that restaurant? You know, stuff like that."_

_"Sometimes, Lisa, the most comforting reality is surreality."_

Lisa had been pondering their conversation since the call had ended. Was Jackson just a product of his environment? And, if so, would removing him from that environment return him to a state of what was considered to be normal social behavior? Or, what if the demons that lurked throughout Jackson's soul and flashed in his eyes were self-made? What if he was as inherently heartless as he seemed to be? Could he ever turn away from that for good? Or would the small rays of light that shone through every now and then, like when he was watching over her last night, be only small glimmers of hope that appeared randomly before being snuffed out by the blackness again?

_"In political news, now, the presidential campaign trails are heating up, with-"_ Lisa flipped away from the local news station, landing on CNN Headline News. The current reporterd was doing piece on the global warming issue, which Lisa tuned out, sipping her tea again. Soon, they would be doing their story on the latest immigration bill to be presented on Capitol Hill, and she was eager to hear what news was coming from Washington.

_"Thanks, Marcus. And now, we turn to a shocking discovery from the political ranks in Georgia. Earlier today, officials apprehended newly-elected State Representative Thom Delacroix. Delacroix was replacing ousted Democrat John Burrows, who had been charged in an illicit sex scandal, and was projected to win over the Georgian Democrats and Republicans alike. Now, in a report released only hours ago by the State Attorney's office, Representative Delacroix has been allegedly embezzeling money from state funds to put into his upcoming election-year campaign. An investigation of the Representative's office yielded nearly $90,000 in cash, bank receipts for an offshore account, and documents whose contents have yet to be released. As if that weren't enough, new evidence from Savannah suggests that Georgia's Republican govenor, Rodney Stelchek, appears to be involved as well. Officials working the investigation have not yet released any information concerning the governor's involvement in this case, only stating that he is being questioned by the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security. We'll bring you more information as we receive it._

_And coming up in the next half hour, a homeowner in Denver claims she was scammed into purchasing homeowner's insurance from a fly-by-night insurance company. How can you avoid making the same mistake? Stay tuned for more information. And the battle concerning immigration legislation heats up as the Democrats and Republicans face off again today in Washington; we'll bring you more on that story after the break."_

She set the remote down and stood from the couch, stretching slightly. Grabbing her tea, she made her way to the stairs on her way to grab her cordless phone from her bedroom. She froze when she saw a dark figure pass by her bedroom door.

"No sir, I'm not seeing anything of the sort up here. Anything she may have on the Keefe attempt isn't up on the second floor." Thankfully, the man's back was turned to her, and she used that advantage to sneak back through the hallway, grabbing her cell phone from the living room as she skittered past. Lisa quickly opened the door to the hallway closet and shimmied between the obstacles contained therein. Flipping open her phone, she suddenly realized that she had no idea who to call. She stared at the phone in horror, silently begging for a number, any number to pop into her head.

As the man upstairs continued talking, a number flashed through her mind. She dialed it quickly, not knowing who she was going to get on the other line. A few rings later, the line connected and a tired voice answered.

"Rippner." Lisa's breath hitched slightly. When did she ever have Jackson's number?

"Ja-" she paused, gulping and trying to calm her nerves, "Jackson?"

"Lisa?" His voice seemed to carry a note of concern. "Lisa, what are you doing? How did you get my cell number?"

"Jackson, _where are you?_" she hissed. She could hear the clicking of a turn signal on the other end of the line.

"Wha- uh ... I'm, I'm heading through the outskirts of downtown, towards my place." He began growing suspicious. "Why, what's going on, Leese?" The sound of his car revving momentarily muffled all other noises, and she paused before answering.

"I- I ... I don't know, there's a, uh-" she stopped, hearing heavy footsteps move away from the upstairs landing and down the hallway, towards one of the othe rooms, "there's a guy upstairs, Jackson, and I don't have a clue how he got in, but he's talking to someone about something about the Keefe job, and I don't know if he's got a- a, a gun, or-"

"Leese, calm down," Jackson soothed, nearly purring the words, "I can get to your place, from here, in a few minutes. Don't move, stay as quiet as possible, but stay on the phone with me for now, okay? Can you do that?" Lisa nodded.

"Lisa, did you hear me? Can you do that for me?"

"Yes! Yes, I can do that." She heard him turn off the radio.

"Where, in the house, are you at right now, Lisa?"

"Hallway closet, downstairs."

"Alright, good. Stay there, don't move till I come to get you, okay?"

"Alright."

"Okay, I'm going to hang up the phone now, but I'll be there in sec, okay?"

"Sure."

-

-

-

After what seemed like an eternity, Lisa could sense someone moving around in her living room. Peering through the wooden slats in the door, she could see Jackson's familiar figure round the corner carefully. He paused, looking up at the second floor landing, before gliding over to the closet. He peered through the slats, seeing Lisa's horrified green eyes staring back. He put a finger to his lips, then motioned for her to come out as he pulled the door open quietly.

Lisa slid out of the closet, but stopped when she felt her pajama pants catch on something, hearing the object beginning to slide against the closet wall. Jackson made a surprised face as he quickly reached behind her and grabbed the offending object, steadying it as he gave a slight tug on her pants, freeing the material. He cast a sideways glance at her, his expression conveying everything. _'Close one.'_

"Is he still up there?" he whispered. Lisa nodded as Jackson reached into the waist of his pants. "What does he look like, can you tell? Tall, short? Skinny, stocky? Anything?" Lisa felt her throat clench as he retrieved a gun from the back of his pants, clipping a magazine into it as quietly as possible. She shook her head no and took a cautious step backwards. He regarded her for a moment before cocking the gun and handing it to her, handle first. "Stay down here, don't make a sound. I'm going up. _**DO. NOT.**_ ... come up after me, do you understand?"

Lisa shook her head and tried handing the gun back to him. "N-no, Jackson, I don't want this, I-" He closed her fingers around the handle, staring her straight in the eye, his gaze turning icy and causing a shudder to run along her spine.

"Lisa, _take it._ Like you said, we don't know if he's got a gun, so _if he does_, you're gonna need that." She shook her head again, tears stinging her eyes and threatening to spill over. "_Yes_, Lisa!" he hissed. "Now stay down here and be quiet. Tell me you understand." Lisa felt a sob beginning in her throat.

"No, Jackson, I don't wan-"

"_Tell me ... you understand!_" Lisa squeezed her eyes closed, feeling the tears falling down her cheeks and splashing onto her collarbones. "Leese ..."

"I understand," she mumbled finally. Jackson released her hand holding the gun and reached into his jacket, bringing out the KA-BAR he had used at her father's house. She remembered reading something on the internet about the KA-BAR being the knife that the United States Marines used at the ends of their rifles as their bayonnets. She suddenly wondered if the man standing guard outside of her father's house had any connections to the military. And if so, why would he have been involved in the plot to take out the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security?

"I want you to go into the bathroom down here, keep the light off, and hide behind the shower curtain, do you understand?" Lisa nodded. "When I finish taking care of everything, I'll let you know." Lisa started to nod, but stopped midway.

"Wait! Why are _you_ the one going up there with him, and _I'm_ the one with the gun?" The terrified look on her face caused a smirk to tug at the corner of Jackson's mouth.

"Because _I'm_ the one who knows how to use a knife, and _you're_ the one who knows how to use a gun. I've got the marks to prove it." The lighthearted note he ended on caused Lisa's mouth to twitch into a half-hearted smile. "Now, go." Lisa nodded and slinked into the bathroom at the end of the hallway, slipping behind the curtain. She peeked out one last time to check on Jackson. His back was turned to her, but as he rounded the stairs, he caught her gaze. Lisa bit her lip nervously, staring back. He gave her a wink.

Her cheeks blushing, Lisa yanked herself back into the relative safety of the shower. She was surprised to find that Jackson had managed to avoid the squeaky stair, as there was absolute silence. Again, seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly, and time seemed to have crawled to a stop.

_Thump._

Lisa clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming in terror. Suddenly, all hell was breaking loose upstairs. She could hear shouts and yells as furniture skidded across the floor and objects fell and shattered on the ground. The footsteps and bangs continued for another five seconds before Lisa couldn't take any more.

"The hell with staying down here!" She ripped the shower curtain back and ran down the hallway, nearly slipping on the smooth hardwood floor as she came around the corner to the stairs. She took the steps two at a time, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

"- all the same, poster boy, _I'm_ the one with the gun. What's that movie line? _'Don't bring a knife to a gun fight'_, eh? Now ... I'm gonna finish what I came here to do, and you're gonna get your scrawny ass back downstairs and keep an eye on her while I find the Keefe info. Got it?"

Lisa pressed herself up against the wall, glad that she had an alcove that afforded her a few additional inches of concealed space.

"I already told you, she doesn't have any info on the Keefe plot!" Lisa could hear Jackson's labored breathing, and knew he had been injured in one form or another. "And it's pointless for me to go downstairs and babysit her when she's about as handy with a weapon as a five-year-old!" She bristled at his comment, but knew he had said it to try to lower the intruder's suspicions about her. All the same, the remark still stung, and she knew she'd have to get him back for it, later.

"She seemed able enough to put you out of commission for a while, Ripper-"

"Call me that again, and I'll give you a _reason_ to equate me with Jack the Ripper!" Jackson growled angrily. "Now, get the fuck out of here, Henson! I warned you, when I was in Adams, about being anywhere near me-"

Lisa heard the intruder's gun cock as Jackson immediately fell silent. "And I told _you_ ... you're on the bottom rung, pal. Scum under the rock. You ain't callin' the shots, anymore. You're going to do what I say, now. Understand?"

Lisa glided carefully down the hallway, keeping herself pressed as flat against the wall as she could, pointing the gun towards the floor. Gathering her courage, she quickly peeked into the room where the commotion was coming from, and saw the intruder blocking Jackson's exit. Thankfully, though, Jackson was facing the doorway, while his opponent was not. Using this to her advantage, Lisa spun around noiselessly and stood in the doorway. She noticed Jackson's acknowledgement and was grateful that he was sly enough to make his eye movements seem as natural as possible to prevent Henson from suspecting anything.

"Do you honestly think the boss is going to put you in charge of me, Henson? You, the idiot that ruined _every single operation_ we had in Tanzania? You've got a lackluster history, Aaron, and for Sal to put you in charge of-"

"Shut. The fuck. Up. Now." Henson leveled the gun at Jackson's head. "I'm damn near ready to just get rid of you, right here and now, and spare the company and myself the trouble of dealing with you for another fucking minute!" he growled. "And maybe, just for a bonus, I'll fuck that Reisert bitch's brains out while you lay on the floor bleeding to-"

"I wouldn't fucking count on it," Lisa hissed, cocking her gun and pressing it against the nape of the man's neck. "Drop the gun, slowly, and kick it towards Jackson. Try anything and you'll be the one who's fucked." Her voice was venomously low and held no surmise of a bluff.

"Well, well, well ... if it ain't the notorious Lisa Reisert, come to pay us a visit." The man made no move to drop the gun, and from his slow, nearly indistinct movements, seemed to be ready to launch a surprise attack on her. To prove her seriousness, Lisa shifted her gun lightly, firing a shot through her window, causing the glass to shatter and making both males cringe. She pressed the muzzle back against Henson's neck again, hearing him hiss as the hot metal burned his skin.

"I wasn't joking. Drop the gun, and kick it towards Jackson, or next time, it'll be your skull exploding all over the place, not my upstairs window." She saw Jackson send her an appreciative smirk as Henson set the gun down, shoving it towards Jackson with his foot.

"You ever hear that song 'Crazy Bitch'? I'm damn close to thinking the song title was conceived with you in mind." Henson remarked to Lisa, while glaring at Jackson. It was Jackson who answered instead, as he picked up the gun and aimed it at Henson.

"If I've learned one thing about Leese, it's that you should never, under any circumstances, underestimate her." He glanced at Lisa, who seemed to have let go of her courage now that Jackson was at the helm again. "Go downstairs, Lisa." She blinked once, slowly, and opened her mouth to protest. The saddened, concerned look he gave her suddenly made her realize why he wanted her to go downstairs. He was looking out for her; he didn't want her to have to see anything messy. She lowered her gun and nodded before turning and leaving the room. When he could no longer hear her footsteps, he refocused his attention on Henson. "Now, where were we?"

"We were on the part where you threaten or shoot me. I haven't actually figured it out, yet," Henson sneered. Jackson's eyes narrowed.

"Hmm ... I haven't figured out which one I'm going to do yet, either. So, maybe it'd suit your personal interests to be as compliant as fucking possible!" he hissed. "Let's start at the most obvious end of the question spectrum and just work our way down the line, shall we? Why are you here?"

"Fuck you, Rip." Jackson shrugged and changed his aim.

"Fine, have it your way." The deafening report of the shot going off echoed throughout the house.

-

-

-

Lisa had barely made it back to her couch when she heard the gun go off. A split second later, a heavy thump caused the dishes in her cabinets and the pictures on her walls to rattle. She gripped the gun Jackson had given her and sprinted back into the downstairs bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.

-

-

-

Henson laid bleeding on the floor, a dark hole in his shoulder leaked the red-black wetness through his jacket and into a pool that was beginning to spread beneath him. He looked up at Jackson, who was very calmly opening the chamber of the gun and counting the rounds left in it.

"Now," Jackson began, his voice eerily quiet, "I have five rounds left in the gun. However," he reached into his jacket and produced another magazine, "I _do_ happen to have a bit more ammo." He looked down at Henson, who was managing to look quite pissed off, in spite of the blood loss. "So, you're going to tell me why you're here, or we're going to find out how many times you can be shot before dying. Agreed?"

Henson growled and rolled his eyes. "Fuck you," he spat. Jackson sighed and cocked the gun. He fired another round into Henson's arm, causing Henson to scream in pain.

"_Again_, I have a _lot ... more ... ammo ..._ I'm sure we can drag this out, but I'm not very patient when it comes to these things, and gunpowder makes my eyes and nose burn. So, if we could do this in a less messy, quicker fashion ... I'd be greatly appreciative," Jackson finished politely. Henson clenched his jaw and held his wounded arm.

"What's the matter, Rippner? Can't take the sight of a little blood?" Jackson rolled his eyes.

"God, you really don't pick up on these things very quickly, do ya?" he asked, cocking the gun and aiming for a leg.

"No! Wait!" Henson sputtered. Jackson hesitated, but held the gun steady.

"Got something you want to say, then?" he asked. Henson groaned in resignation.

"Orders came from Sal," he started, shifting uncomfortably. "The Keefe client was a high-roller, a cash cow. They weren't too fuckin' happy when they didn't see a return on their investment. Sal wanted to make sure that they don't take their money elsewhere, so he made them a deal." Jackson lowered the gun and squatted down next to Henson.

"Really? And who are these people that he's making a deal with, Henson?" He narrowed his eyes. "But, more importantly, what kind of a deal did he make? Specifics."

"Don't know the names of the clients. All I know is that they're foreign. They've got an interest in seeing America's foreign policy becoming lax in the next administration, for trafficking purposes."

"Trafficking of what?" Jackson asked, glancing down at the blood that was now pooled around Henson. Lisa was going to be pissed that her floor was ruined. Henson shook his head.

"I haven't heard. But I've got three guesses: humans, drugs, or weapons. Could be a mix of all three." He paused, blinking hard and coughing, trying to keep himself conscious.

"What was the deal?" Henson was breathing hard now, struggling to stay awake.

"Finish the Keefe job."

"So why didn't Sal just come straight to me, then?" Things were sounding a bit fishy for Jackson.

"Thought you were too involved with the Riesert bi-" he cut himself off when he saw Jackson's warning glare, "-too involved with Reisert."

"No one's ever heard of 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' these days, I take it," Jackson muttered. He looked back down at Henson with disdain. "I want in on the deal. I finish the Keefe job, and I'm out of the business. For good."

Henson had the balls to laugh. "Sure thing, Rippner. I'll let Sal know to add that to his own little 'Good Deeds to Accomplish Before I Die' list." Jackson suddenly knelt down and pressed the gun hard against Henson's forehead.

"Alright, the way I see it, you've got two options. Option A, I can put you out of your fucking misery right here and now with the next round in the chamber. Option B, I can let you go back to Sal and have you tell him that I want in on the deal. Which one sounds more appealing?"

Sighing, Henson looked at his wounds. "I'll take B." Jackson nodded and extended his hand, helping Henson up off the floor. Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, he led him out of the room.

-

-

-

When Jackson had finally gotten Henson back to his own car and watched him drive off, he allowed himself a few moments to think.

Sal was a shrewd businessman, but this surprised even Jackson. He entered the house, locking the front door behind him before leaning back against it. Sal had made a deal with foreign clients for the Keefe job, he had known that the moment he took it, but knew better than to ask questions. But once it was botched, he went back and tried to salvage it? That was something that even he didn't think Sal would do, and he had known Sal since he was just a teenager, when he was taken in by the company. The new deal that Sal had designed sounded awkward, but any opportunity he had to get out of the company quicker, Jackson was going to take it.

He suddenly realized how quiet it was. "Lisa?" Jackson called out. He looked through the living room, and in toward the kitchen. Everything seemed empty. He moved to the hallway and peered toward the bathroom, seeing that the door was shut. Jackson walked to the bathroom and rapped softly on the door three times. "Lisa, you in there?" He could hear heavy, staccato breathing.

Lisa didn't look up when Jackson opened the door. She was weakly clinging to the toilet, her forehead resting against her arm. Jackson could see that she was shaking slightly.

"Is he gone?" she asked faintly. Jackson nodded.

"Yeah, Leese. He's gone."

"Dead?" Jackson wasn't sure what answer she was looking for on that one.

"No. Not yet, anyway." He watched as Lisa sat up slightly, rubbing her hands across her face. Jackson eyed her carefully. "I gave him the option of going back and letting the boss know that I want out of the company. For good. No more little assignments to finish up, no more _anything_. Just ... out. Alive."

Lisa looked up at Jackson with a steady, studious gaze. Jackson felt unnerved by the look in her eyes, as if she was trying to find a glitch in his tone and demeanor. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she nodded. An awkward silence hung between them, both suddenly avoiding the other's gaze. Lisa moved and sat on the edge of the bathtub, while Jackson leaned heavily against the door frame. Lisa finally sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, clasping her hands at the back of her neck.

"You okay?" Jackson asked softly. Lisa nodded. "You su-" he didn't allow himself to finish the questioning verification, knowing that she hated it. Lisa laughed at the way he cut himself off.

"Yeah, I'm _sure_, Jackson." She looked up to see him giving her a sympathetic look, and felt herself chill under his gaze. She wasn't currently interested in being on the receiving end of anyone's pity, even if it was well-intentioned. Jackson glanced at his watch briefly. "You don't have to babysit me anymore, the Big Bad Wolf's gone."

The corner of Jackson's mouth turned up slightly, giving him a a very wolfish smile. "How can you be sure that the Big Bad Wolf isn't me?" Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Because you haven't eaten me yet." She heard Jackson make a slight choking noise and realized, with utter embarrassment, the horrible double meaning that her simple reply could have. Her face flushed and she dared a glance toward Jackson's face, it was a few shades redder and held an amused smile.

"_Excuse me?_" he asked tauntingly. Lisa shook her head and held her hands out in front of her pleadingly.

"No, no, no! That's not- I didn't mean it like that! I meant-" Jackson held up his hands, stopping her.

"I know what you meant," he laughed. "I just- it was too good of an opportunity to let it just pass. You walked right into that one." He checked his watch again as Lisa struggled to control the blush that had spread from her cheeks down to her neck. "We need to get moving soon, Leese. There's no telling when they'll be here. Come on." He pulled her into a standing position and led her back out into the hallway.

"Wait, what? _'Get moving'_? Why? Move where? And who's _'they'_?" Lisa sputtered.

"The rest of them. Go upstairs, get whatever you need that you can fit into one suitcase and your purse, and meet me back down here. Do it as quickly as you can." He pulled his keys out of his pants pocket and turned toward the front door.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Lisa, Henson's probably not the only one looking for info right now. You were lucky this time, he was only here for information on the Keefe case, not to make a hit. But where there's one, there'll be more. And I can't guarantee that they'll only be looking for information next time. They might be wanting to take you out, and I'm not meaning on a date, if you catch my drift." Lisa nodded slowly. "As far as I'm concerned, your house isn't safe for you anymore. Henson's already been in here, and it'll be easy for other agents to get in, too. If you plan on staying alive, especially after I gave Henson my ultimatum, you're going to have to move someplace safer."

"Jackson, I can't just up and move whenever I feel like it, I have a weakened immune system, I had to go out and get HEPA air filters, for shit's sake-"

"My place is sanitary, I assure you."

"_Your_ place!?" Lisa squeaked, spinning around. Jackson held up his hands.

"It's either that, or quite possibly end up very, very dead." Lisa opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't come up with anything substantial. He was right, unfortunately. Jackson's employer most likely wouldn't be too thrilled with Jackson's ultimatum, or the fact that Lisa had screwed up another one of the plans, by ratting out Henson to Jackson. If anything, Jackson's place would be the last place they'd probably expect to find her.

"Okay," she finally mumbled, moving to the stairs.

"Ten minutes, Leese."

-

-

-

Lisa stared out the window of Jackson's BMW as they pulled into the parking garage.

"I didn't know you lived in an apartment complex ..." Lisa mused. Jackson turned off the car and gathered his jacket and tie from the backseat.

"I don't. Not anymore, anyway. But this is where I park. I live closer to the beach. Grab your purse." Lisa unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door, grabbing the small tan bag at her feet. She moved to the trunk, but saw that Jackson was already closing it, her suitcase in hand. She reached for it, but he shook his head. "I've got it Leese, just follow me." Lisa suppressed a smile at Jackson's small, but noticed, display of chivalry and followed him through the parking garage.

They moved up the entrance ramp and out into the moonlight, waiting for cars to pass before crossing the street towards a small, open-air shopping plaza. Lisa took in the surroundings, noticing that the current environment reminded her of the Jacksonville Beach area. There was even an outdoor theater advertising Friday night's next showing of the latest "Now on DVD" movie.

They crossed through the shopping plaza toward a sandy path that led them to a boardwalk just past the dunes. Lisa followed Jackson's brisk pace down the boardwalk, which had an exit staircase that led to a quaint sidestreet. Judging by the look of the neighborhood, Lisa imagined the the majority of the residents were either snowbirds from the north, or retirees who lived year-round in the warm climate. She continued following him past front yards filled with sandy patches of grass, terra cotta-potted plants, and looming palms. One house with a newer VW bug parked in the driveway had an arbor loaded down with Chinese wisteria and passion vine, which caused Lisa to smile. It was nice to see a 'homey' touch to such a small space.

She looked up as she heard Jackson jingling his keys and saw that they had come up to a small, nondescript beach house, with a tiny front yard, and a wrought iron fence, complete with matching gate. The gate squeaked as Jackson opened it, letting Lisa pass through before shutting it behind them.

"This is where you live?" she asked. Jackson didn't answer as he walked up to the front door, set down her suitcase, and slid a key into a small box next to the door. The box clicked open, revealing a fingerprint scanner and keypad. She waited while he typed in the code, held all five fingers to the scanner, listened for a beep of confirmation, then said his name, followed by a string of numbers. Satisfied, the security system clicked. Jackson opened the glass storm door, slid a key into the lock, and opened the front door.

"Home sweet home, Lisa. For now, anyway." He picked up her suitcase and motioned for her to follow behind him. As Lisa entered the house, she realized that its appearance from the street was deceiving. Despite being small in width, the house opened up lengthwise to reveal a vast expanse of hardwood and tile floors, and Lisa could peer through several rooms to see a large set of windows in what must've been an all-seasons or living room.

A sudden jingling and clicking noise alerted Lisa to another presence in the room, and she shrieked as a behemoth of a dog made its way towards them. Seeing Lisa, the large black dog curled its lips and ran at her full-speed, barking and growling. She panicked and ducked behind Jackson, who grabbed the dog by its collar as it attempted to lunge for Lisa, and pulled it back.

"Titus, _sit_!" Jackson bellowed. As if a switch had been flipped, the dog ceased its growling, licked its lips, and sat compliantly next to Jackson.

"What the hell _is_ that thing!?" Lisa shrieked, still shaking. The dog examined her with its head cocked to the side.

"Best damn guard dog I've ever had in my life. This," Jackson knelt down to rub the dog behind its huge ears, "is Titus. He's a Great Dane, like Marmaduke, if you've ever read the comic strip." He saw that Lisa was still standing a few feet away, wary to move any closer. Jackson gave a smirk. "Not afraid of dogs, I hope. Titus!" Jackson pointed to Lisa, and the dog advanced on her, causing Lisa to back against the wall. Jackson kept a firm grip on the dog's collar. "Don't worry, he's not going to hurt you, he just has to get to know who you are. Hold out your hand."

"So he can gnaw the damn thing down to the bone? Hell no!" Jackson grabbed her wrist, anyway. He pulled her up to Titus and held her hand, palm up, in front of the dog's muzzle. The dog sniffed her hand warily, then sniffed her feet and knees, before giving a satisfied huff and looking back to Jackson. Jackson let go of the dog's collar and the black beast moved into the hallway, and with a loud thump, sprawled out on the cool hardwood floor.

"Told you," Jackson said simply. He slid his keys back into his pocket moved into the kitchen, setting Lisa's suitcase next to a tiled breakfast nook. "If someone, somehow, disables my security system, they still have Titus to deal with. If my security system doesn't detect an intruder, Titus will."

"And what if he suddenly decides I'm an intruder?" Lisa asked, still feeling wary. Jackson shook his head.

"That's why I told you to hold your hand out to him. He'll know your scent now, when he moves through the house. He'll know you're supposed to be here. Anyone who's not, well, they won't have that luxury." He pulled his cell phone out and attached it to a charger on the counter. "Okay, first things first ... let's get you situated." He grabbed her suitcase and for what seemed the millionth time that evening, followed Jackson.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a 'sleepover' type of guy, so there isn't really what you could call a 'guest room'. The majority of the house is either for _my_ comfort, or for business." Lisa watched the pale walls of the hallway glide by and open up into dining area and living room, and past that, the all-seasons room. "Dining room's there, don't really have a need for it. Here's the living room. Got the basics ... TV/DVD/theater system, sectional couch, coffee table, chairs, the usual. This ..." he moved through the living room to the all-seasons room, which was sunk down a level, and had a panoramic view of the ocean, "is _my_ room. Well, I mean, not that it's _off-limits_, just-" he looked back at Lisa, who nodded to affirm that she was listening, "I just _really_ like this room." He looked back to the windows and smiled. "It's got a great view of the ocean. Not that I'm here to enjoy it much, but when I am ..." he trailed off, surveying the beachscape.

Lisa noticed the brick and copper firepit in the middle of the room, and how the layout seemed to be almost circular, to revolve around the firepit. A rounded stone seating area encircling the firepit held comfy-looking cushions in various shades of red, blue, green, and orange. _Very tropical,_ she noted. The large windows weren't really windows at all, upon closer inspection. They were a series of doors which could be slid open to allow in the cool ocean breezes, and led out to a wooden terraced patio, and then to the beach.

"It's beautiful, I can see why you enjoy it," she responded politely. "You could have a good time in here."

Jackson smirked and blushed, scratching his neck sheepishly at a few rather embarrassing memories. "I have ... once or twice." Lisa bit her lip and guessed that Jackson 'entertained' a few female counterparts in the room. _No. Disgusting. No way you should be thinking about that stuff, Lisa. Just- no._ "Anyways ..."

He moved out of the room, and into another hallway. "There's a few other rooms. Pseudo-gym, here ..." he pointed into a room with a weight bench, a treadmill, and various other pieces of exercise equipment. "Pseudo-office, here. This room _is_ off-limits, just so we're clear." Lisa nodded and continued down the hallway. "Okay, here's the tricky part, and I can tell you're not going to like this one bit. I can imagine the fit you're going to throw already." Lisa wasn't sure if he was talking more to himself or not. "This is the 'extra bedroom'. As you can see, it's not really a bedroom, more like ... a storage space. For now." Lisa peered into the room to see that it was filled with boxes and storage containers. "I've always had it on my to-do list to actually use it as a second bedroom, but, as I said before, not much of a 'sleepover' guy." Lisa raised an eyebrow.

"Not for an extended stay, anyway, am I right?" she asked with a smirk. Jackson nodded shamelessly.

"Yeah. Pretty much. My ... _company_ ... usually preferred to just go ahead and share a room for the night."

"Head-to-feet, I'm sure," Lisa supplied sarcastically, referring to a more 'modest' sleeping arrangement. Jackson shrugged.

"Which is a wonderful segway into the situation at hand." He pointed into the final room, a white-walled bedroom, with an adjoining bathroom, and a large four-poster bed up against one wall. "_This_ is the only bedroom. _That_ is the only bed. _Those_ are the only blankets. Hence, our situation." Lisa paled. _Was he suggesting-?_

"Y-you mean ...?" she motioned back and forth between the two of them.

"Yeah, unfortunately. Can we be adults about this and share the bed without throwing a temper tantrum, until we're able to remedy the situation?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, then pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He looked like he was readying himself for a knock-out, drag-down fight.

Lisa opened her mouth a few times, horror seeping across her face. Finally, she took a deep breath. _It's not like I have much of a choice, unless one of us sleeps on the sectional, sans blankets and pillows._ "Okay." Jackson looked up questioningly.

"Did you j- ... did you just _forego an argument_ and actually make a compromise with me?" he asked, lacing mock bewilderment into his voice, which became a good mixture with the real bewilderment.

"It's only temporary, like you said, right?"

"What? Oh." He had been so stunned at Lisa's willingness to share his bedroom that he almost forgot where he was. "Yeah. Just until I can get the second bedroom set up. You're okay with that?"

Lisa nodded. "Yeah. I'm trusting you not to try anything, though." She gave him a pointed glance, and he held up his hands innocently. "Alright." Jackson nodded and moved her suitcase into the room.

-

-

-

An hour later, Lisa was showered, in her pajamas, and getting ready for her inaugural night in Jackson's house, more specifically, in Jackson's bed. She had lingered in the shower, trying to stall the inevitable. She had conditioned her hair twice, using up more of her Biolage than she really intended, shaved her legs and under her arms until she was sure there was probably only two layers of skin left in those areas, scrubbed herself down with her peach bodywash until the scent was undoubtedly fused into her skin, then shut the shower off. And that only used up twenty-five minutes, unfortunately. _I'm going to have to learn to take slower showers, somehow,_ she had thought.

After stepping out of the tiled shower, she had rubbed lotion into her skin until she practically glowed, then towel-dried her hair until her auburn curls began reforming. Satisfied, she ran her brush through her hair, pulled it back into a messy bun, then began to brush her teeth. Then she flossed. Then used mouthwash. Then flossed again. And brushed. And used mouthwash for the second time, as well. Looking at the rounded clock on the wall, she saw she had only been in the bathroom for fifty minutes. So she sat there for the last ten, until the boredom and impending doom got to her, and she realized she couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer.

Jackson looked up from his book as Lisa stepped out of the bathroom. Lisa was instantly drawn to the pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses that framed Jackson's eyes. _Very David Tennant-10th Doctor,_ she thought approvingly. _Wait, why am I comparing him to a Sci-Fi/BBC character?_ She shook the thought from her mind. "Glasses?" she asked instead.

Jackson gave her a confused look before realizing the black frames at the corners of his vision. "Oh. Yeah. Um ..." he slipped them off and folded them carefully, setting them on the nightstand next to the bed, along with the book. "They're for reading; when I get headaches. I find it hard to read when I've got a headache, and the glasses help." He nodded to the book on the nightstand. "I was just ... I wanted to make sure the light was still on when you got out of the shower. I figured you aren't too comfortable with the surroundings yet, and I didn't want you to slam into any furniture, or ... or anything," he finished awkwardly. Lisa nodded.

"Yeah, um, thanks for that." She felt horrible for wasting so much time in the bathroom, now that she knew he was staying up for her benefit. "Sorry I took so long, I was just-"

"Avoiding it for as long as you possibly could?" he supplied. The look on her face gave her away. Jackson nodded and stared at his hands in his lap. "Believe me, same thing was going on, on this side of town." Lisa wondered if he always wore flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt to bed, or if he had put them on just to make her feel more at ease. Taking a deep breath, she crossed over to the opposite side of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Like you said, we're both adults-"

"And I'm going to be the perfect example of a gentlemen ... except I'm totally going to slide under all the covers, whether you're under all of them too, or not." Lisa surpressed a laugh and pulled her side of the covers back, sliding underneath them all, as Jackson slid the covers from underneath himself and did the same. "I'm a horrible footsie-player, so don't try starting any games in the middle of the night. My feet go subzero at night, if that's any incentive against starting up a game." Lisa laughed at his attempt to break the tension as he turned out the light. There was a few soft ruffling noises as they each situated themselves under the covers. After a few moments, the only noises to be heard were the sounds of the central air humming in the background, and Titus snoring in the entry hallway.

"Didn't realize how quiet everything gets," Lisa said softly, staring at the ceiling. From the corner of her eye, she could see Jackson lacing his fingers together and moving them behind his head. He, too, stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows and the small amounts of light dance across the flat surface, as the breeze outside ruffled the foliage. "I figured a house on the beach, you know ... you'd hear the ocean."

"Nah, not in this room. In the room with the firepit, yeah. Especially with the doors open." Lisa frowned, and Jackson seemed to consider the stupid remark. "Well, yeah, I guess that would make sense, what with the doors being open. Duh."

Lisa suddenly burst out laughing. "_Did you just_ _say 'duh'?_ Oh my God!" Jackson laughed next to her. "I don't think I've said that word since I was in _college_!"

"Okay, okay. Make fun of the always-professional manager, I get it." Lisa scoffed.

"_Always professional?_ Please. You stopped being professional the moment you met me." Their laughter died uncomfortably. Lisa suddenly realized that she had said something wrong.

After a tense few momemts, "Goodnight, Lisa." She noticed the change in his tone. What she had said had unsettled him, somehow.

"Night, Jackson." She saw him turn onto his side, turning his back to her, and felt the slight tug of the sheets. She turned onto her side, as well, so that they were now facing away from each other. The sheets and blankets covering them pulled tight, and cool air rushed under the warm covers and settled into the two feet of empty space between them. She shivered, but settled for pulling the covers up to her neck.

Sighing, Lisa let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, slowly picking out figures and objects in the dark. A matching nightstand and lamp sat next to Lisa's side of the bed, to correspond with the set on Jackson's side. A full-length mirror sat in the corner of the room, directly across from her. It creeped her out a bit, for some reason, and she averted her eyes. A large walk-in closet took up the space at the end of the hall between Jackson's room and the second bedroom. At least, she guessed it was a walk-in closet. The door was closed, and she didn't exactly feel like tapping Jackson on the shoulder and asking what was behind Door Number Three.

A familiar jingling noise caused her eyes to flick to the door. Titus stood in the doorway, staring directly at her, his ears at attention. Slowly, he moved toward the bed, until his face was inches from hers. Lisa squeezed her eyes closed tightly and fought the urge to squeal in terror like a little girl.

"Go lay down, Titus," Jackson mumbled, sensing the dog's presence. Titus moved his head up, trying to peer over Lisa to see his master. Unsatisfied, the dog put one giant paw on the mattress and vaulted over Lisa, landing in the space between her and Jackson.

Lisa felt Titus suddenly throw himself down between them, and shove the covers back against the mattress, blocking the cold air.

"I didn't mean _here_," Jackson groaned. He turned and grabbed Titus gently by the scruff of the neck and pushed him off of the bed. "Go lay on your own bed, you horse." Titus groaned and moved to a dog cushion on the floor at the end of the bed and plopped down with a loud thump.

"Actually, he was blocking the cold air, there for a sec," Lisa mentioned. Jackson sighed and turned his head.

"You cold?" Lisa didn't move other than for a slight nod. She heard Jackson pause and turn to face her direction. "Don't go reading into this. And if you're uncomfortable with it, just, let me know, we'll figure something else out." She felt Jackson scoot closer to her, and she suddenly froze. He moved until he was nearly spooning her, leaving a few inches of space between them. Lisa was half-expecting an arm to go around her.

"No, that's fine, actually, it's better. Do you mind?" she hated the way her voice sounded at the moment.

"Wouldn't have done it if I did." She nearly jumped at his voice, so close to her. "If you're still cold, you can move closer."

Lisa debated it for a moment, and decided she might as well go all-out and mortify the hell out of herself, if she was going to get warm. _Go big, or go home. Except ... I can't really go home right now, can I?_ With a final sigh, she moved back until she had closed the distance between them, and felt her back press firmly against Jackson.

"Jesus, Leese!" Jackson breathed. "I didn't think you'd seriously do it." _Ass!_, Lisa thought, _I'm such an ass! Of course he wasn't being serious!_ She mumbled an apology and began to move away when she she felt his warm hand on her arm. "No, I didn't mean- you just surprised me, was all. I didn't mean for you to move. Stay, if you want." Jackson said softly, thinking he had hurt her feelings.

"No, if you don't want me to-" Lisa trailed off, realizing what an imposition she was being. She felt his hand circle her waist.

"That's not what I meant, Lisa. I was just surprised that you actually had the guts to move up against me." He pulled her against him and paused. "This is really inappropriate, isn't it?" he asked, referring to their positions. Lisa sighed and shoved her head down into her pillow.

"Inappropriate or not, it's a lot warmer than it was a few minutes ago. We're both adults, and as long as you don't cop a feel, I'm fine with it."

Jackson nodded behind her and let go of her waist, pulling the covers up again. Once he was finished, Lisa felt him hesitate.

"Jackson ...?" After a moment, he grumbled helplessly.

"I'm not exactly sure where to put my hand, now. There aren't too many appropriate options." Lisa moaned tiredly and grabbed his arm, pulling it around her waist again.

"Don't go reading into this," she quipped, stealing his words.

"Night, Lisa."

"G'night, Jackson."

Titus snored at the foot of the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Jackson woke the next morning to the sound of distant ringing. He closed his eyes again and nestled his head back into the pillow. That was when he realized that he wasn't alone.

Looking down, he saw that Lisa was curled up against him, her back pressed against his chest. Jackson propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand while he studied the situation for a moment. If only she could see how ridiculous their situation _actually_ was; he ― housing his previous target, she ― moving in with the Big Bad Wolf himself. His lips turned upward into a smile as he remembered their 'Big Bad Wolf' discussion from the previous evening.

Lisa sighed in her sleep, moving a bit, and Jackson simply watched her. How he _wished_ he could've had the opportunity to study her _this closely_ when he was working on the Keefe job! He would've seen the scar, would've known what had happened to her, wouldn't have underestimated her. Then, things would've gone as planned, and the Keefe job wouldn't have been fucked up. He could've taken her to the gate, grabbed some Starbucks, as promised, and then ...

_And then what_, he thought. _And then I never would've seen her again, and I would've gone back to the same shitty existence I've carved out for myself._ He looked down at Lisa's slumbering form, his arm still around her waist. _And I never would've gotten to touch her. Not like this._

The ringing noise from earlier interrupted his thoughts. _Where the **hell** is that coming fr-_

His cell phone! He left it on the counter last night, to charge it! That was probably what woke him up in the first place! If it was the company calling him, _a second time_, because they didn't reach him _the first time_, he was in deep shit.

Quickly disentangling himself from Lisa and the blankets, he tossed the covers off, vaulted over Lisa, and skidded out the door towards the kitchen.

-

-

-

Joe Reisert drummed his fingers on his waist as he waited for Lisa to answer her phone. It wasn't like her to avoid him. Granted, he knew the constant overprotective father thing he had going on was starting to annoy her, but could she _blame_ him? As far as he was concerned, Jackson Rippner had attacked her twice, and he wasn't going to buy the bullshit story she had made up about accidentally stabbing herself.

_"Hello, you've reached Lisa Reisert, night manager for the Lux Atlantic Hotel, a division of Lux Hotels & Resorts Incorporated, in Miami, Florida. Unfortunately, I'm either away from the guest lobby, or unable to answer your call right now. If you need immediate assistance in regards to your stay at the Lux Atlantic, please hang up, and try the front desk at extension 3-1-5. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 9-1-1. For all other concerns, please leave your name, a brief message stating the reason for your call, and a number where I can reach you. Please speak clearly after the beep-"_

"Lisa, honey, it's dad ... I'm just wondering where you're at right now, you're not answering your phone." Joe looked around at his still-incomplete house. "I'm just wanting to know that everything's okay. Let me know if you need anything. Alright, I love you, sweetie. Bye."

Joe clicked the _Talk_ button again, ending the call. He felt edgy, and had a gut feeling that something was wrong. If Lisa didn't call back within an hour, he'd go over to check on her.

-

-

-

Lisa woke when she had felt Jackson tear out of the room, but she had been so comfortable, under the soft, warm covers, that she really didn't care if the house was coming down around them, or ... whatever it was that had caused Jackson to vault out of bed.

At that moment, the only thing that disturbed her was that she had been _too_ comfortable. She had felt safe and secure in Jackson's bed, with his arm draped over her waist, holding her against him.

And it scared her to no end.

_Beware the snakes in the grass._

This was the man who had lured her in with his clear blue eyes, gotten her to trust him, and had then turned her world upside down. He had threatened her, her father, her friends, and the Keefes. Not to mention that he backed up his threats with physical force. She had a headache off and on for two weeks after he had headbutted her and thrown her down the stairs. What if he was doing the same thing now? What if he was just luring her in again, getting her to trust him once more, and then betrayed that trust by finishing the Keefe job and murdering her and her dad?

Every time she imagined the look of pure, unadulterated hatred in his eyes when he confronted her in her father's kitchen after she had stabbed him, she was assaulted with a separate image. A face with the same clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, and soft lips, always with the look of genuine concern, always asking, _Did someone do that to you?_ She remembered the conversation in her driveway on the night he had killed the intruder in her house, the night she stabbed herself ... how he had admitted that he had been her pawn, that he couldn't have killed her, even if her father hadn't shot him ... the words he had prayed in the back of the police cruiser as he was being taken to jail after taking her to the hospital, _Make her better ... and I'll quit_.

What if this was his attempt at redemption?

-

-

-

Jackson had found the source of the ringing, the moment that it stopped, of course. It had been Lisa's cell phone. Predictably, it was her father calling, according to the Caller ID. Jackson groaned, furious that he had run all the way into the kitchen for that. If he was going to be summoned from bed, _Which,_ he mentally congratulated himself, _currently has a warm female occupant in it,_ then at least make it something worthwhile. He grabbed his own cell phone, nearly stepping on Titus as he turned, who apparently thought his owner was rushing into the kitchen to get a Milk-Bone for his trusty backup security system. He received one, but only as a consolation prize. Jackson reached for his jacket that he had slung over one of the chairs and fished a peppermint patty out, quickly unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. _I get a consolation prize, too_, he thought as he crunched the tiny piece of candy angrily.

Having obtained the fully-charged cell phone, Jackson made his way back to his room, slowing as he neared the doorway. _Do I just go in and lay back down like nothing happened, do I stay up and start the day, what?_ He looked in and saw Lisa was still curled up in an adorable ball under the covers, her nose and closed eyes barely visible. Jackson smiled and made his way toward the bed. _Lay back down in bed and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist,_ he decided.

-

-

-

Joe stepped out of his Jeep Cherokee, locking the doors with a press of his keyless entry button. He crossed the street and noted Lisa's car was in the driveway, signaling that, by all means, she should be home. He cut through the grass and moved to her front door, ringing the doorbell. He waited for her familiar shout of _'I'm coming!'_ or _'Just a sec!'_, followed by the thumping of her feet as she raced to the door. He waited in vain. So he rang again. Two rings and three knocks later, she still hadn't answered. He moved to the window, trying to peer inside, but the glare from the sunlight, combined with the opacity of her curtains, hindered his vision.

_Where the hell did she go?_ He reached into his back pocket, fishing for the keys he had shoved into the denim pouch. Joe quickly pulled the metallic mess that was his keyring out of his jeans and searched for the one that would open Lisa's front door. He searched through the small silver and gold objects, looking for the one that had a large _L_ in black Sharpie on its face. "Shit," Joe cursed lightly. He didn't have her key on this set. He moved around to the back of her house, looking for an alternate way in.

-

-

-

The warmth pooling in his chest and the lackadaisical lethargy seeping into his entire being warned Jackson that he was way too comfortable, and for all the wrong reasons. At least, from a manager's standpoint. But then again, Lisa had pointed it out, oh-so-clearly, to him last night. '_Always professional? Please. You stopped being professional the moment you met me._' Losing his professionalism could very quickly ― and very easily ― get them killed. Hell, as far as he was concerned, until he met Lisa, he might as well have been nothing more than a stealthy, deadly, reanimated corpse, brought to unlife for the sole purpose of completing its master's tasks, like something out of a B-grade zombie flick. As much as he liked to believe he was in control of every trivial detail in his life, the more he examined it, the more he came to realize that the control would lay well outside of his grasp until he identified, and broke free from, his chains and demons. Lisa had sent the shock through his system the was needed to jolt him back to life the minute she began defying him on the plane. She was a puzzle to be solved.

"We can't stay here all day, you know?" he chided.

"Why not? You got _business_ to attend to?" He noted her distaste at the word, knowing it was really just her way of sugar-coating _'Do you have to go and arrange people's untimely deaths from unnatural causes?'_, and it made him wince.

"Not exactly. I've got paperwork and some research to do, but not active duty."

Lisa laughed lightly. "You make it sound like you're in the military."

Jackson gave her a sly look. "What makes you think I'm not?" Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, which he replied to with a smirk as he slid out from under the covers. Titus, who had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, immediately jumped up and took Jackson's vacated spot, giving Lisa a hesitant glance before plopping down.

"Are you?" she asked curiously. He sent her another smirk.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know ..." He began pulling a pair of track pants out of one of his dresser drawers. Lisa realized that it shocked her to find out he owned something else besides business suits. "I'm getting changed and going for a jog. You can keep sleeping, if you want." He moved to the door Lisa had presumed was the entrance to a closet, opened it, and revealed that her presumptions were correct. He moved into the darkened space, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of New Balances, then headed toward the bathroom. "By the way, your phone rang earlier. It was your dad calling. I don't know what you want to tell him, but if he asks about where you are, or anything, sell him something believable." He finally closed the bathroom door behind him.

-

-

-

Lisa sat in the kitchen at the breakfast nook, looking down at her list of missed calls.

_Missed Call: Dad  
Missed Call: Dad  
Missed Call: Dad  
Missed Call: Dad  
1 New Voicemail_

"God, Dad! Obsessive much?" She was about to call him back when the phone suddenly chirped to life again. _Incoming Call: Dad._ She thought about what she should tell him, and decided to go with the almost-truth. She pressed the _Talk_ button.

"Hey, Dad."

Joe Reisert, ever the worrying father, seemed nearly out of his mind with concern. "Lisa!? Honey, where are you? Are you okay? I'm at your house, I've tried calling you all morning, an-" he paused, and Lisa wondered what her house looked like, if there were any blood trails, and if he had seen the upstairs yet.

"You're at my house?" Lisa looked up as Jackson entered, fully dressed in his blue and white jogging outfit. The track pants were blue, with the signature three stripes of the Adidas brand running down the sides. The t-shirt was white, with a large blue and white horseshoe on the chest, with _INDIANAPOLIS COLTS_ stamped beneath it in large print. Titus stood next to him, holding his leash in his mouth expectantly.

"Yeah, I wanted to come over and check on you, to make sure you're okay. When you didn't answer your phone, I got nervous and came over. I can't seem to find my copy of your key, though, honey." Joe paused and his tone became suspicious. "Lisa, what happened? Where are you? You're okay?"

Lisa rolled her eyes with the ever-present question. "Um, yeah, Dad, I'm fine. I'm just not at home right now." Jackson gave her a nervous look. _Don't tell him you're with me!_, he mouthed. He pantomimed for her to put it on speakerphone, and after a confusing few seconds, she understood what he was trying to say, and hit the _SPKR_ button.

"Why? Sweetheart, what happened?" Lisa wracked her brain for a believable explanation.

"Nothing, I just ... I spent the night at a friend's house." She looked up at Jackson, who seemed to be waiting for her to continue, as well. "I didn't think you'd be stopping by, otherwise, I would've said something to you."

"A friend's house? Who's this friend?"

Lisa looked up at Jackson with trepidation."Dad, are we going to go through this every time I'm not under your nearly-constant surveillance?"

"Is it a _male friend_, Lisa?"

Jackson began to grin in an evil manner, hearing the paternal concern in Joe's voice. Unimpressed with the current conversation, Titus dropped his leash to the floor and sat back on his haunches. Lisa rolled her eyes at her father's question. "Dad, I'm almost thirty; I'm a big girl now, and I'm not stupid."

"That doesn't answer my question, Lisa."

"Yes, it's a male friend. And before you ask, no, I'm not telling you who he is. And no, I didn't make a stupid decision last night." She knew right where her father's line of questioning would be going, and she was going to nip it in the bud.

"Lisa, are you sure everything's okay?"

She swallowed the scream that had been building in her throat, but let loose on Joe nonetheless. "Dad! _I'm fine!_ You never believe me when I tell you I'm okay, and it gets on my nerves!" Lisa surprised herself with her outburst. Jackson seemed a bit taken aback, too, if the look on his face was an indicator. They heard Joe give a sigh on the other end of the line.

"Lisa ... you know I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm just wanting to make sure my little girl's okay." Lisa frowned at the phone while Jackson leaned in to hear the conversation better. "These past few years, you've seemed ... different. And I don't mean just from that Rippner guy. You seemed to have changed before that. It's like someone flipped a switch in your life, and you just, I don't know ... you went inward." Jackson threw Lisa a curious glance, which made her flush in embarrassment. She could sense an impending Q&A session, which she seriously didn't want to have with him. "And no matter how many times you say you're okay, you never seem to get any closer to the Lisa you were a few years ago. It's like you've lost something. And I'm sorry if I sound harsh saying that, honey, but ... there's just something that's not there anymore, that I can't put my finger on." _Oh, if he only knew._

"Dad ... I'm fine, I'll call you later, okay? I've gotta go." She sighed, rubbing her face, still feeling Jackson's eyes on her.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll let this slide for now. But I want a better explanation later. You hear me, young lady?" Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Alright. Well, call me back when you get the chance. I love you, Lisa."

"I love you, too, Dad. Bye." She closed her phone and stared at the counter, waiting for questions that she knew Jackson wanted to ask.

His face was calm, with a hint of smug pride playing across his features. "That was well-played," he said quietly. "Convincing, believable." He, too, stared at the counter, before glancing back up at her. He held his gaze upon her, waiting for her to look at him. He continued when she finally raised her eyes. "You never told him." It clearly wasn't a question.

"About what?" she asked, trying to sound innocent. He saw through her bullshit.

"You know what, Leese. The rape."

Lisa stood and walked toward the living room. "No, I didn't." She really didn't want to have this conversation with him. She heard Jackson fixing the leash to Titus's collar and watched as the two entered the living room. Titus was prancing around eagerly, wagging his tail and looking expectantly toward the glass doors that led to the beach. Jackson paused, twirling the leash in his fingers.

"Not something you care to expand upon, I take it?" he asked. Lisa shook her head and averted her gaze as she sat on the sectional. Jackson passed her the remote and headed toward the doors. "Fine. We'll be back in a while. Make yourself at home, just ..." He glanced toward the hallway, toward his office. "Stay out of the restricted section. Got it?" Lisa nodded and watched as man and dog headed out the doors and out of sight.

-

-

-

Jackson watched the early-morning mist pass by as his feet continuously pounded into the sand. One foot in front of the other, beating a rhythmic cadence into the shoreline. Next to him, Titus galloped steadily alongside his master, his tongue hanging comically from the side of his mouth.

Jackson slowed his pace and struggled for breath. He had trouble increasing his lung capacity after the second bullet from Lisa's father had ripped through his chest, puncturing an entrance and exit through his right lung, before lodging against the inside of his shoulder blade. The medical staff had assured him that he would be able to regain normal lung function with cardio workouts, but he was too much of a perfectionist to be able to ignore the labored breaths, the rattling in his chest, or the slight sting when he overexerted himself. But, time would eventually restore his lung function to 100 percent.

His feet slowed until they finally ended with a rasped _squish_ in the damp, packed sand. He bent over, huffing for breath as Titus panted next to him. Strings of drool hung from the dog's mouth, making it appear as if he had swallowed a sneaker and still had the shoelaces hanging out. Titus's ears suddenly perked as his head snapped toward the waves. Still gasping, Jackson turned to see a small gathering of seagulls scuttling along the waterline, nipping at the water occasionally. He unhooked the dog's leash from the collar.

"Go for it, you stupid brute." Titus took off toward the gulls, letting out a deep, resonating _WHUFF!_ and a long howl before splattering into the surf and scattering the birds.

Jackson stood back up again, reaching his full height in an attempt to give his lungs more room to expand into his ribcage. Running had been part of a strict fitness routine of Jackson's for years, and it had served him well during many assignments. When it came to keeping himself in shape, Jackson had the discipline of a drill sergeant.

He had been purposefully cryptic with Lisa when she asked him if he was in the military. The connections he had made in his line of work weren't anything he was willing to discuss with her at the moment, not at this point, at least. The less she knew, the better. His "dog" that Lisa had driven ― quite literally ― through the front door of her father's house had been USMC, retired. That was where he had obtained the KA-BAR. He was surprised that Lisa's father, an Army Vietnam veteran, hadn't seen the Marine Corps insignia on the knife.

"Titus!" Jackson shouted for the dog. He turned to see the Great Dane laying in water up to his neck, biting occasionally at the bubbles as the waves rolled in. "You're fucking soaked, dog." Jackson could see two inches of the dog's tail zipping back and forth through the water in an attempt to wag it. "C'mon, Titus, let's go."

-

-

-

Lisa sighed at the Spanish daytime soap opera playing on the big-screen TV. She suddenly remembered why she worked the graveyard shift at The Lux; she got to sleep through the boring daytime programming.

Jackson had been gone for nearly an hour, and there was still no sign of him. She felt awkward about him, as if they had parted on a fight, even though no harsh words were exchanged. She had been slightly icy toward him when he asked about her father's lack of knowledge of her rape, but otherwise, no blows had been dealt.

She clicked the TV off and stood, knowing she needed to get dressed. She headed down the hallway, stopping at the door to Jackson's office. _Alice is looking down the rabbit hole,_ she thought wickedly. Her hand settled onto the cold metal of the doorknob. _Alice was getting ready to fall._ She turned the handle.

The damn bastard had it locked! Lisa fumed silently to herself, but figured that she ended up on the greener side of the fence. There were probably bits of information locked away behind that door that could get her killed if she ever discovered them. Instead, she continued down the hall, to the doorway of what would eventually be her room, according to Jackson's previous assurances. She wasn't entirely sure that she was ready to be a long-term house guest of Jackson's. However, the ease with which her home could be invaded wasn't exactly comforting, either.

Lisa nudged the door open and peered into the room, filled with boxes, overflowing milk crates, and large plastic Rubbermaid storage containers. It would take Jackson forever to sort through everything in the room and move it out before it became inhabitable.

Sighing, Lisa sat down on the floor and grabbed the box nearest her. She slid it across the carpet and pried open the flaps. A moment's hesitation stayed her hand from reaching inside. _Should I be doing this? Going through his personal stuff? "_As if he's never invaded my home or privacy," she mumbled aloud. She wondered if she was opening up a figurative can of worms as she reached her hand inside. Who knew what mysterious item from Jackson's past she would pull-

"_The Wall Street Journal_?" Lisa asked incredulously, looking at the 'mysterious item' she had retrieved. _Got_ to be kidding.

She pressed the cardboard flaps back all the way as she looked into the box. Books. The box was filled with _books!_ Judging by some of the titles she was seeing, he had an eclectic taste in reading material. There was a tattered paperback copy of _The Iliad_, laying on top of a few Stephen King masterpieces. She lifted _The Iliad_ and the Stephen King books out of the way in order to get a better view of what else could possibly be contained within.

Surprisingly, there were a few hardback prints of _The Hardy Boys_, and underneath them were a few magazines, mostly _National Geographic_ and _Time Magazine_. She moved those out of the way, as well, and gave a wistful smile at the next pieces of literature. Neatly folded, were copies of various newspapers, each dated:

_Tuesday, __September 11, 2001_.

He had saved pieces of history. He had written copies of what frivolous little issues had been the major concerns of the American public, before the world had changed indefinitely, only a few hours after they had been printed.

Lisa remembered that her father had insisted on doing the same thing that day. He had gone to the gas station, waited in the incredibly long lines reminiscent of the 1970s during the gas crisis, filled his tank, and bought a copy of _USA Today_, and a copy of the local newspaper.

A sudden disturbance from down the hall caught her attention, and she heard a jingling noise. _Titus!_ She quickly grabbed the books and magazines and stuffed them back into the box as carefully as she could. Who knew what Jackson would do if he found her snooping around through his stuff?

-

-

-

Jackson reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of Aquafina, and closed the door. He looked up as Lisa entered the room, and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Weren't anywhere you weren't supposed to be, I hope?" he asked vaguely, giving her the once-over with an added air of suspicion.

Lisa shrugged before crossing her arms in front of her. "I don't think I was. You never said the as-yet-to-be extra bedroom was off-limits." She kept her demeanor cool and unassuming, not wanting to give him any extra reasons to be wary of her. Jackson twisted the cap off of the bottle and eyed her carefully.

"It's just storage. Nothing of interest in there, I'm sure." He took a few gulps of water and leaned back against the counter. "I'll look around today for furniture. Once everything in there is all cleaned up and moved out, we'll start moving you in."

"Jackson..." Lisa's sentence stalled on her lips as she gave a sigh. He fixed a questioning gaze on her. "Look, how am I supposed to live a 'normal' life, if I'm living here with you? I've got work, and friends, and my dad, doctor's appointments..." She trailed off, looking helplessly at Jackson.

He knew there would be logistical and scheduling problems. He also knew that there was no way she'd be safe at her own place, not until things blew over with Henson, and whoever was giving Henson his orders. The brashness of the break-in was enough to warrant a healthy stirring of caution within Jackson, and if he could trust anything, he could trust his gut instinct. Operatives would be back at Lisa's place. They wouldn't be as easy to neutralize as Henson was.

"Let me worry about how to get you to and from where you need to go, Lisa. You just worry about acting normal. Don't let on that anything's out of place. Your dad's suspicious, and Cynthia's the type to snoop around, so we'll have to come up with a story-"

"I don't like lying to my dad, Jackson."

"You've never seemed to have had any problems with lying to him before," Jackson responded simply, fixing a measured gaze on Lisa. Her face became stony and she turned away.

-

-

-

Henson opened his eyes blearily to the sight of the sanitary gray-green of the hospital room. He recognized, from the way the sun was streaming in, that he was in the med bay of company headquarters.

Licking his dry lips, he glanced down at his wounded body. After the two shots from Rippner, he was surprised that he was still alive, even more surprised that Jackson had given him the opportunity to live. He couldn't even remember the drive from Reisert's house. Damn bitch.

The door opened and he looked up to see Sal's familiar figure entering the room, accompanied by a small entourage of two paid hulks. The door closed with a light click and Henson struggled to sit up, the searing pain in his chest making it nearly impossible to do so.

"It seems Rippner was in a gracious mood," Sal noted, taking inventory of Henson's wounds. "You're lucky to be alive, all things considered." He pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket, clipped the end, and lit it. After a few puffs to draw the flame and smoke through the cigar, he continued, waving the white-grey cloud away. "I had a few more agents search the house to see if she had anything on the Keefe job, but, apparently ... Rippner was right. The house was clean."

Henson jerked his head up. "How did you know what Rippner told me?"

"You called and talked with our night secretary on your way here, to let us know what happened. You don't remember?" Sal seemed to consider his agent's state. "Not surprising, I suppose. You were delirious with pain and blood loss by the time you arrived. Miracle you didn't die on the way in." He took another puff of his cigar. "As it stands now, though, Miss Reisert is missing a few possessions from her home, namely, some luggage and clothes. You didn't happen to hear where she might be headed, did you?"

Henson shook his head. "No, I only saw her for a few moments. Jackson sent her out of the room. Which reminds me, he wants me to bring you a message."

Sal looked up, excitement glittering in his eyes. "_Really?_ A message? For me? How very unlike our Mr. Rippner. Do tell."

"He says that he wants in on the Keefe deal, wants to finish it up, then he wants out." He took a pained breath, again feeling the sting in his chest. "Of the company."

Sal chuckled to himself before looking back to the goons still standing near the door. "Well ... it looks like we may have to get in contact with our dear Jackson." He looked pointedly at the hulking men. "Make sure we have additional surveillance on Miss Reisert's parents, the hotel, and her hospital. When she turns up, we'll see if she's a valuable bartering tool where Jackson's concerned."

-

-

-

Jackson's eyes opened slowly as the piercing warble sounded again. At his feet, Titus groaned and kicked at the blankets, upset at being disturbed from his slumber. Behind him, Lisa shifted, tugging at her pillow. Looking around, Jackson finally spotted his cell phone on the nightstand, and glanced at the caller ID before opening it.

"Rip-" he swallowed against the croakiness of his voice, "Rippner."

"I hear you have a proposition for me. At least, that's what I've gleaned from Henson." It was Sal.

Jackson cast another glance back toward Lisa before sliding out from under the covers and leaving the room. "So, the bastard's still alive, I take it?"

"Apparently so, for the time being. He seems to be more trouble than he's worth. But let us discuss the matter at hand, shall we, Jackson?"

Jackson cringed at the way Sal pronounced his name. His thick Cuban accent made it sound like 'Yack-sun', despite his fluency with English. "Well, for starters, I don't appreciate being in the dark about the whole Keefe ordeal," he mumbled tiredly, struggling to wake himself a bit more as he entered the living room, trying to keep his voice low so as not to wake Lisa. A glance at the clock on the wall informed him that is was well into the night. "And to send Henson to do clean up is insulting."

"Really, Jackson? Is that what bothered you so? Or was it the fact that Miss Reisert was the target? Were you aware that she's currently MIA?"

Jackson bristled. "Yes," he offered simply.

"Well, do let us know if you find her. We've got surveillance on her parents' houses, her work, and the hospital she frequents."

"Sal, do you really think that I'm going to give you _anything_ without something in return? Especially after all the shit that's gone down recently?"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Henson has relayed your message to us."

Jackson got the distinct feeling he was being baited. "Look, Sal, I've worked for this company since I was a teenager. I don't want to do this for the rest of my life. All I want is to finish up this fucking assignment, and walk away."

On the other end of the line, Sal laughed. "Really Jackson ... do you honestly believe it's that easy? To just walk away, with everything you know, with all the access you have to our files?"

"In all the years you've known me, have I ever done anything to cause you to suspect that I would do anything along those lines?"

"You've done a lot of things that have been out of character for you lately, Jackson," Sal countered seriously. "It would be interesting to find out your motive behind your recent changes."

"I'm just getting tired of the job, Sal. I'm sick of the lifestyle. Every time I turn around, I'm in a different country, in a different hotel room, seeing different people ... I've got a house I hardly live in, a car I barely drive." He sighed. "I'd just like to ..." He paused, looking through the large glass doors, out to the moonlight-bathed ocean glittering a few hundred yards away. "I want to be able to live my life, without constantly wondering where I'm going to be next, or thinking about my next assignment." He glanced down at the couch cushions as he settled into them.

Sal groaned on the other end of the line, but it wasn't one of exasperation or disappointment; it was one of empathy. "Such are the trials of men of our line of business, Jackson." An uncomfortable silence passed between the two of them. "I can understand your desire to leave, Jackson. Really, I can. But it won't be painless. For either of you."

Jackson felt his heart sink. He had figured that it wouldn't be easy, but he hated the utterance of the truth, in this instance. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Come by the office tomorrow, both of you, and I'll explain how you can earn your way out."

Jackson snorted. "You assume that I know where Reisert is."

"I _know_ that you know where she is. And if you didn't, I'm damn sure you'd be the first person who'd be able to find her. Both of you. Tomorrow. Be here at noon." And with that, he hung up.


	8. Chapter 8

Lisa wasn't sure what time it was when she woke. The outline of Jackson's upturned shoulder hid the blue-green digital numbers of the clock on his nightstand. She glanced over quickly to see if he was awake, but in the pre-dawn darkness, it was difficult to tell; only the slight wheezing caused by his awkward position alerted her to the fact that he was, indeed, asleep.

Titus jerked awake as Lisa's feet touched the floor. The large black Great Dane stood, stretched, yawned, then followed his new distraction as she made her way down the hallway.

When she finally felt the sand between her toes, Lisa sighed, pulling the blanket she had nicked from the back of the couch around her tighter. Miami wasn't usually cool enough to warrant anything more than a long-sleeved t-shirt, but then again, she was pretty sure they were outside of Miami's city limits, wherever they were.

A dark cobalt gray tinged the horizon over the ocean, signaling the beginning of the night's finale. The wind whipped a few granules of sand around her feet and tossed her hair across her face. Lisa closed her eyes and breathed in the salty scent of the ocean, glad to finally be outdoors. She had sort of expected to be under lock and key at Jackson's house, but the months of intermittent self-imposed solitary confinement in her own home had simply been a bit much for her.

"If I hadn't forgotten to set the alarms, you'd have the whole neighborhood awake by now, you know that?"

Lisa spun to see Jackson standing on the deck, lowering a firearm. Neither she nor Titus had heard him slide one of the glass doors open; Titus seemed as surprised as she was by his sudden appearance.

"I- ... I'm sorry, I just-" she searched for a justifiable explanation. Instead, she shrugged, turning her attention back to the graying horizon. "You know, this is the most liberated I've been in- ... God, months." The sand rasped beneath Jackson's feet as he gave a cautionary glance around the deserted beach and toward his neighbors' houses while he clicked the safety on his gun. "Ironic, isn't it? I'm freer at my captor's house than I am at my own."

Lisa turned her head slightly, seeing Jackson's sleep-permeated form coming to a stop next to her. His face was pale, and his eyes and lips were puffy from sleep. "I suppose I could find irony in it," he replied groggily, rubbing at his eyes as the wind tore at his hair and rippled his t-shirt and boxers. "I need to make sure I set the alarm before I go back to bed."

Lisa understood that to mean that it was time to head back in. Titus followed her dutifully back into the house, shaking the sand out of his short, glossy fur before crossing the threshold into the room. Lisa followed him into the house while Jackson closed and locked the doors behind them.

"Go to sleep, Lisa. We have a busy day tomorrow."

This piqued Lisa's interest. "Really? We're going to tackle the guest room, I assume?"

Jackson sighed. "No. We're going to headquarters. My boss requested a meeting with us. I need you on your best behavior tomorrow." He finished locking the doors and setting the alarm on the wall, before giving her a stern look. "If you can manage to keep your mouth shut when not being spoken to, hold your backhanded comments to yourself, and keep the sarcasm to a minimum ... we may live through the end of the day," he advised. "Can you do that?"

Lisa swallowed and looked toward the hallway. "Good night, Jackson."

-

-

-

When the alarm went off at 8:00, Lisa wasn't ready to get up. Fortunately, Jackson slithered out of the covers, turned off the alarm, pulled on a track outfit, and disappeared for a while. Only when Titus rested his head on the mattress and began nuzzling her did Lisa finally pull herself out of bed.

A quick scan of Jackson's fridge revealed that he did, indeed, have enough supplies to make omelettes. Not only were omelettes a possibility, but a gallon of orange juice sat in its bright yellow and green container, as well.

She carefully cut the green and red peppers, minced the cilantro, poured a bit of salsa in a bowl, and beat the eggs in a separate bowl. Finally, Lisa greased a frying pan with a bit of butter, and poured half of the eggs into the pan, sprinkling a bit of black pepper in as she did so. Soon, the peppers were added, and she waited for the mixture to harden a bit. When the eggs congealed, she added a bit of cilantro, along with some of the contents of a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. She barely heard Jackson's entrance.

"Eggs, huh? I should've thought as much."

Lisa smiled a bit to herself as she added a few pieced of julienned ham to her mixture in the pan. "I assume you take ham in your omellette?" she asked. At her side, Jackson grabbed a glass from his cupboard, and filled it with tap water, before gulping down a few mouthfuls. "I mean, you obviously eat _some_ meat, if you've got it in your refrigerator."

"I'm not vegetarian, if that's what you're asking," he supplied, still gasping and sweating. "I happen to know you like your eggs with a bit of salt and pepper ... and some garlic, if you've got any available."

Lisa bristled slightly. It wasn't that he was making correct assumptions about her, because he wasn't; it was that he was stating facts that he had picked up during his 8-week-long stalking of her. It unnerved her, to think of everything that he had possibly seen her do or heard her say while she was being stalked.

From the bedroom, Jackson's cell phone rang. He left to answer it and Lisa continued with the second omelette. She picked up a few words of the one-sided conversation, but nothing gave away any hints as to where they would be heading or what they day held in store for her. As she slid the omelettes onto separate plates and began reaching into the cupboards for a glass, Jackson re-entered the kitchen, staring down at the phone.

"Top left side, if you're looking for cups," he offered, opening the fridge and pulling out the orange juice.

She gave him a quick thanks and pulled a glass from the upper shelf. Jackson grabbed the plates and set them on the table. Lisa nearly forgot the salsa, and quickly grabbed the bowl while Jackson pulled silverware from one of the kitchen drawers. She noticed that he hadn't bothered hiding the knives from the cutlery collection.

"We need to go over some things before we get to that meeting, today, Leese." He gave her a hard stare as she took a bite of her omelette. "The man I work for ― the man we'll be meeting ― he's the one that pulls my strings, do you understand that?"

Lisa swallowed and gave him a calculated look. "So ... what?"

"What I'm saying is that I've worked for this company for a long time. A _very_ long time. This man knows me inside and out, practically. The fact that he's still alive to run the business is a monument to his ability. Don't _ever_ underestimate this man."

Lisa felt the beginnings of uncertainty begin to creep into her system. She was used to Jackson stating things very matter-of-factly, but something about the way his body posture had changed and the fact that he was prepping her for the meeting began to ring warning bells in her head. "What is it that you're trying to say, Jackson? What is this meeting about?"

He gave a shrug and rested his elbows on the table, and clasped his hands, letting his fingers interlock. "I'm not sure what to expect from it." He paused, considered the omelette in front of him for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. "A while back, I tried calling his office-"

"Who is he?"

"He's my boss, and that's all you need to know," Jackson answered evenly. "If he wants you to know who he is, he'll formally introduce himself, but I'm not going to give you any other information about his ID. It's safer that you don't know some things, trust me."

She wanted to laugh. Right in his face. Trust was such a fragile thing. It couldn't be easily given or won, but he was asking for hers without any collateral. True, he had been the most honest and forthright of the both of them, but being truthful and up-front about things didn't necessarily make up for being a shady character. She was becoming suspicious of him, despite having promised herself the other night that she would trust him. What exactly could this line of work do to a person? Which Jackson was he, really? Was he the charming young man she had met at the airport, or was he the sinister murderer she had seen on the plane? She couldn't tell when he was simply wearing another metaphorical hat and when he was being his true self. Did _he_ even know who he was? "Why should I be concerned about this guy?"

"Lisa, as dangerous as I can be, this man has me beat at nearly every angle. I'm just one person. I don't have any pull over any other people in my workforce. He has an entire _company_, full of assassins, spies, hackers, torturers, researchers, con artists, _all_ at his disposal." He settled his hands on his table and leaned forward slightly. "Think about what that could mean if you get on his bad side. Lisa ... think of what he could have someone do to you. And if that doesn't scare you, think of what he could have done to your friends ... your co-workers ... your family."

She felt her heart begin to beat harder.

"Your _dad_, Leese." She pushed back from the table and folded her arms across her chest. "You've gotta understand this when we're going in. I'm not saying it to be cruel; I'm saying it because if things get fucked up, there are going to be consequences that are going to lie outside of my realm of influence. I need you to understand that. This is both of our asses on the line."

Lisa seethed inside. "You know what? I'm pretty damn much fed up with this whole thing! Every which way I turn, I'm always finding someone threatening me!"

"I don't want you to take this personally, Lisa. Honestly, I don't. But I _do_ want you to take this _seriously_."

His low, calm tone rattled her. He was, indeed, being serious. He wasn't making threats. Jackson was giving warnings. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and closed her eyes, concentrating on maintaining her composure. "If I ... agree to do this ... if I just go along with everything, keep my mouth shut, and don't act up, what guarantee do I have that he's not going to hurt any of my friends or family out of spite?"

"None." He watched her flinch and turn her face. "But, as it currently stands, you're not much of a threat to him. You're just a thorn in his side. And as long as you don't dig any deeper into his ribs, you'll have better odds that he'll leave you and yours alone."

"Then why am I here, Jackson?" She finally opened her eyes. "Why am I holed up here? Why did I have a guy breaking into my house? Why do I have to be scared of being in my own home!?"

"Because despite everything I said, I still don't trust these people enough to leave you unguarded."

"What are you getting out of all of this? Hmm? What can you gain from getting me to go along quietly and go to this meeting?"

"Closure, I hope." He caught the look of confusion that flashed across her face. "I've been with them for a long time. I've given them nearly half my life. It's quick money. Easy money. And I'm damn good at what I do. I never leave a job unfinished. Our clients have never expressed anything but complete satisfaction with my work." He stood and leaned over the table, moving his face closer to hers, his hands gripping the sides. "But _I'm_ no longer satisfied by my work."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you suppose it's like, Lisa? How much sleep do you think you can get, knowing that you've just helped orchestrate the assassination of a country's leader? How do you think you'd feel, having to go on a mission as an initiation, and having to slit a man's throat from ear to ear, while his kids slept in the room just down the hall? How hard would it be to walk past their room, and look in and see them still sleeping, knowing that when they woke up in the morning, they'd find out why their father hadn't woken them up to get them ready for school?" He could feel bile stinging the back of his throat. "I could tell you the exact answer to every one of those questions, Lisa. Every damn one."

She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. The very thought of what Jackson's past entailed set her on edge, and a hot nausea burned in her chest and stomach. She could imagine those kids waking up in the morning, looking around for their dad, and finding him dead in his blood-soaked bedsheets. To see something like that at such a young age ... God, she could only imagine. To be Jackson, knowing that you did that ...

"And you want to know why? Because I've had to live those experiences. I've walked that line, and believe me, it's a _hell_ of a line to walk. But you know what? I'm tired of doing it. I'm sick of getting up in the morning, and knowing that I could have another job waiting in my inbox that could give me nightmares for the next 18 months. But even worse, I'm scared shitless that one of these days, the nightmares will stop because I've grown so fucking jaded to it all that it just doesn't seem like a horrible thing to do. And I'm really damn close to that time coming, Leese. _Really_ damn close."

Lisa felt the color drain from her face. All this time, she thought Jackson was impervious to the mess that was left behind in his line of work. "You told me ... on the- ... on the plane, when I was worried about Keefe's family ... you said 'bad things happen to good people'," she mumbled. She was still trying to let everything register. He gave her a nod. "If this business screws with you so badly, why did you make that excuse on the plane?"

Jackson gave an empty laugh, averting his eyes. "You know what I did after my parents died, Leese?" He stood and began a slow pace back and forth across the kitchen, each step a calculated move, his eyes never leaving hers. She shook her head. "My parents were gone when I was 16 years old. I got into some low-level trouble. Then I started getting into deeper shit. It went from petty fights at school where I got the shit beat out of me, to armed robbery. I had a criminal record in five months. The judge decided to sentence me as an adult, so I went to the state pen, not that marshmallow-fluff juvenile detention center. I was given psychiatric evaluations, and when those were entered into the records, that's when my current employer found me."

Lisa narrowed her eyes at Jackson, wondering what could've given a young kid at his age a reason to become so violent. Obviously, his parents' deaths must've had some type of impact on him, but if he killed them in what she suspected was also a violent manner ― much like his other crimes ― guilt probably wouldn't have given him a reason to act out. "So, you're saying that he was on the lookout for someone like you?"

He gave a grim nod. "That's exactly what I'm saying. He read through my case files, got his hands on my psychiatric evaluations, and decided that what he saw in them was what he was looking for. I had a penchant for violence, I had high IQ scores, my reasoning and logic skills were exceptional, I displayed an ability to adapt to stressful situations, and most of all ... I was still young and impressionable."

"How could he have gotten his hands on your case files?"

"This company has its hands in everyone's cookie jars, Leese. We have branches in every country, with multiple branches in certain ones. When you have a scope of that size, with specialized departments, you tend to be able to acquire things with less difficulty."

"Once he found you, what happened?" Lisa asked, leaning forward with interest.

"He produced identification stating that he was with a charitable organization for wayward teens. Spoke to the judge and the case worker. He told them that he ran a school in Pennsylvania that helped rehabilitate people like me, got us to graduate, and helped us find job placement. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't what he made it out to be, either. Eventually, after doing some convincing and paying off, he got me released and filed paperwork to become my legal guardian until I was 18."

"So you went to this school of his, in Pennsylvania?"

"Yep. It was a school, but not one in the conventional sense of the term. I finished all of my high school classes, of course, but there were ... I guess they would be defined as 'elective courses', or 'extracurricular classes' that they offered. While I was there, I was taught about the company and what was required of its employees. I was given a job, but I was still too volatile to do anything productively. They decided that I needed to learn how to follow orders and to become an effective fighter, if need be. So, they erased my criminal record, doctored my background, and sent me on to training."

"Where?"

Jackson gave a smile and slid one arm out of his sleeve. He pulled the side of his shirt up to rest on top of his shoulder, revealing most of his back and exposing his right shoulderblade. In faded gray and black ink, an eagle perched atop a globe, with a banner clenched in its beak. Behind the globe was a fisherman's anchor, with rope wrapped around its length. In the banner held by the eagle were the words 'Semper Fi' in bold lettering. "MCRD Parris Island, South Carolina," he said with a grin. "The United States Marine Corps."

Lisa gasped at the realization that Jackson was, indeed, in the military at one point. He had been vague with his response when she leaked her suspicions, but confirmation that Jackson had not only been in the military, but in the most elite branch, seemed to explain a lot about him.

"I spent 6 years as an active duty U.S. Marine, working stealth recon and sniper missions. I was in more fire fights and hand-to-hand combat experiences than I can count. I saw things that I hope you'll never have to see." He shoved his arm back through his sleeve and pulled his shirt back down, turning around to face her. "But in everything I did, there was a reason. Every male and female Marine that I served with did what they did, for a higher purpose. We fought to keep people free, Lisa. We fought to protect America and her people from harm's way. Our mental, physical, and emotional sacrifices meant that we were preserving the American way of life." He gave a sad laugh. "Do you know, that on 9/11, when I was on leave ... I saw the planes hit the towers, and I was dressed, had my bags packed, and my house locked up in the span of half an hour, and was reporting for duty before my commanding officer even called me?" He paused, feeling his teeth grinding together, and the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Do you know what my oath of enlistment was?"

Lisa sat there, unable to choke out any words, and simply shook her head.

Jackson spun his chair around backwards, straddled it, and sat in front of her, his eyes locking on hers. "_I, Jackson Lucas Rippner, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to the regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God._" His eyes scanned her face. "When I did what I did, it was because I took an oath. There was honor in what I did. But now ..."

"Now it all seems like it's going to shit."

Jackson shook his head in opposition. "No, that's not it. I still believe in that oath, Leese. Just because I'm no longer an active duty Marine doesn't mean I'm not a Marine anymore. There's a saying in the Corps, 'Once a Marine, Always a Marine'. That's why men and women who leave the Corps through retirement or fulfillment of their enlistment get pissed if they're called 'ex-Marines'. I'm still a Marine. I'll be one for the rest of my life, the same as any other Marine out there. As such, I still believe in supporting and defending the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and bearing true faith and allegiance to the same."

"Then why the hit against Charles Keefe?"

"It's what I was paid to do. My reports that I received said that Keefe had been funneling political money around through D.C., sending it to lobbyists and special interest groups. One of the jobs that Keefe had before working in Homeland Security was chairman of what was supposedly an illegal immigrants' rights group. We're not just talking about Mexican illegal immigrants; we're talking _all_ illegal immigrants ― Honduras, Venezuela, Colombia, Saudi Arabia, Libya, Somalia, Iran ― you name it, they worked for them."

"So? So he's a humanitarian ... what does that have to do with anything?"

"Other than the fact that aiding illegal immigrants is in opposition to federal law?"

"But how does that relate to you setting up the hit on Keefe? So Keefe's a bleeding heart; that doesn't mean you have the right to kill him."

Jackson sighed heavily, hoping Lisa would understand what he was about to tell her. "I'm not saying that anything gives me the right to kill him. I'm saying that my job was to remove Keefe from office in a big, brash way. Keefe had connections into the illegal immigrant community, Leese. He, along with others in his organization, were working with drug and weapons traffickers that were coming into the country."

"Why would he do that?" Lisa asked, suspicion heavy in her voice.

"Keefe worked through different illegals in the country, found out who still had influential ties with their countries of origin. If he found some that had strong anti-American sentiment and had people in their homeland that shared their feelings and could get things done, he handed money to them. That money was then used to orchestrate attacks against American embassies, U.S. troops, and cargo shipments to and from the United States. He creates additional havoc that wouldn't be there if it weren't for him. Meanwhile, he's going on and on about being tough on foreign policy, and taking measures to protect America's interests at home and abroad. So, he gets a big game plan together, presents it to the administration, convinces them that he's the guy for the job, and boom- ... new head honcho in the Homeland Security Department. He makes appropriations requests, and once he gets access to the purse strings in Washington, he funnels some of it off to his contacts abroad. They store it for him in secure accounts that he'll have access to when he leaves his position."

Lisa took a moment to let everything Jackson said register. She felt sick to her stomach. If what he said was true, Charles Keefe ― the man she thought she knew, the man she trusted ― financed attacks on Americans, and was now using his position as Director of Homeland Security to get money from the appropriations committees in Congress to line his pockets in offshore accounts. This wasn't the Charles Keefe she knew. "How am I supposed to know that what you're saying is true? Why should I believe that?"

Jackson stood and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms in front of him and crossing one leg over the other. "I've got wire taps, phone records, DHS security footage, bank account transactions ... you name it. I can submit a request to give you access to those files, and you can see for yourself, if you want."

Lisa felt a burning sensation in the back of her throat. She had trusted Keefe! To think that he had put on a show for her, and millions of other Americans ... to know that he had been responsible for who knew how many Americans' deaths across the world ... "Yes," she responded suddenly. "I want to see them. Everything. If he's the son of a bitch you say he is, I want to know for myself; I need to know that he lied to me. To everyone. And if it's true that he did this, that he's still doing this, then I'll ..." she trailed off, not sure if she could bring herself to say it.

"You'll what, Lisa?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll do what I can to help you close out your case on Keefe."

-

-

-

Lisa cleaned up after they finished their breakfast while Jackson took a shower. He finished and re-emerged with damp hair, dressed in his business slacks, dress shirt, and jacket. Typical Jackson fashion.

"Shower's free," he offered, as Lisa finished the dishes. She nodded and went to the bedroom, gathered her clothes, and closed the bathroom door behind her.

"Am I really doing this?" she whispered to herself as she set her clothes down and brushed her hair away from her face. A cease-fire with Jackson was one thing. Aiding a terrorist was another. And that's what he was, really. A terrorist.

Right?

She quickly undressed and turned the shower on, stepping under the hot spray. She grabbed her shampoo and quickly began to wash her hair. What was the definition of a terrorist, anyway? If Jackson had taken an oath to protect and defend against all enemies, foreign and domestic ... "I guess it depends on whether or not Charles Keefe is considered a domestic enemy of the United States," she rationalized. She really hadn't thought this through enough. Until proven guilty, Charles Keefe was an innocent man. But, then again, so was Jackson. So was she. But if what Jackson had said was true ... Keefe had caused the deaths of countless people, robbing the taxpayers in the process, to finance his operations.

Only a few years ago, Lisa had known Keefe as a Congressman from a small district in Texas. She had been working at The Lux Houston Resort, prior to being offered the position in Miami. During the day shift, Keefe booked the Lux's front conference room for meetings, with people she had assumed were Washington insiders, financial contributors, fellow Congressmen, lobbyists, aides, and local leaders. Lisa had always been the one to proactively assist with anything that they needed, and soon, their compliments had reached the ears of her managers. She had been promoted to the day manager position soon after, and her cordial encounters with Keefe and his acquaintances brought her onto his radar. After being offered the position of hotel manager at the Lux Atlantic, Lisa continued to run in to Keefe. He had never been anything other than friendly and open with her, and as such, she took it upon herself to take care of any arrangements he made in Miami. With his brother living in South Beach, Keefe stayed at the Lux Atlantic a few times a year. He continued to book the conference room, stating that he liked to brainstorm with _out_-of-state lawmakers and politicians, as well.

It was that vision of Keefe, the good-hearted Congressman and now-Director of Homeland Security, that Lisa had fought for on the red eye flight. She had risked her life, and fought Jackson tooth and nail, to protect Keefe and his family.

But for what? Had Keefe been pulling the wool over everyone's eyes all along? Everyone except for the men that Jackson worked for? Had everything been a big dog-and-pony show? A ruse?

She would get to the bottom of this. If Jackson had those damn files, like he said he did, and could obtain access for her ...

She shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. After drying off and slipping into a blouse and skirt, she rubbed her hair dry and exited the bathroom. As she was busy sliding on a pair of low heels, Jackson knocked on the bedroom door frame.

"There's been a slight change of plans." Lisa looked at him questioningly. "We aren't going to headquarters. We're meeting him at a restaurant. Might want to dress up a bit."

Lisa looked at the suitcase she had brought with dismay. "I don't know if I've got anything dressy. I didn't really think to bring anything other than work clothes or casual wear."

Jackson glanced down at his watch. "Alright, I'll tell you what ..." he drummed his fingers against the door frame, still studying his watch. "Finish your hair, and I'll make some calls, then we'll stop on our way there to get you an outfit."

"Is it that important that we need to dress up for this?" she asked.

"Not really. But he's not the kind of guy to whom you would want to give a bad impression."

-

-

-

Lisa looked around at the boutique. She had driven past this type of store before, but had never really had the urge to go in. This was an upscale establishment, one in which she felt completely out of place.

"You must be Lisa. I'm Caroline," the sales assistant extended her hand to Lisa and shook it warmly. Lisa cast a glance toward Jackson. "Don't worry about a thing, he's already given us your sizes when he called earlier. We have a few things picked out for you, already. If you'll follow me, we'll get you into the dressing room and out of here in no time." Lisa followed the woman, noticing her expertly-done French twist. She had tried doing that with her hair for years, and had never been able to get it to be anything but sloppy.

Caroline led Lisa to an alcove which housed a small wing of dressing rooms, complete with clothing racks on either side, and a collection of full-length mirrors in the middle. Hanging from one of the racks was an assortment of clothing, which Caroline began to lift from the bar. "Are those al—" Lisa swallowed hard at the exquisite clothing, "are those all for me?"

Fifteen minutes later, Lisa had a collection of tops, skirts, and dresses that Caroline had picked out for her and ensured they fit correctly. She had dressed Lisa in a black cocktail dress with a high neckline, opting out of the one that had a low-cut neckline, for Lisa's sake. Lisa would be eternally grateful for that woman. As Caroline began folding the clothing, the door chime jingled, and Lisa looked up to see Jackson enter, carrying a small bag. "Ah, wonderful timing! We've just finished up here," Caroline said warmly. Jackson nodded and gave a brief smile, laying a credit card on the counter.

His eyes ran over Lisa's form, appraising the dress. "Hmm ... conservative, nice cut, modest skirt line, sleeveless ..." He looked up to Caroline. "You've picked out something very classy for her, Caroline. Nice job." Caroline smiled. Jackson turned his attention back to Lisa. "You're going to make a good impression on him, I think."

After Caroline had finished ringing them out and they said their goodbyes, Jackson led Lisa back to his car, holding her door for her before moving to the driver's side. He quickly slid into his seat and turned the keys in the ignition. He reached into the bag he had been carrying and removed a large, square box. "You'll need to wear these, as well." He opened the box, revealing a pair of drop pearl earrings and a matching pearl necklace.

Lisa felt her stomach clench. "Those aren't ... those aren't real, are they?" She studied the pearls. The necklace consisted of a large pearl in the middle, with successively smaller pearls leading to each end.

"Of course they're real. You can't possibly expect to dress like that and then wear fake pearls, can you?" He pulled the necklace out and undid the clasp. "Here, turn around. Let's hurry up and get this on you. You can put on the earrings while I'm driving." Lisa turned, and Jackson dropped the necklace over her collarbones, pulling it up slightly to do the clasp, then released it.

The smooth pearls felt cool against her skin. She had always wanted a set of pearls. Her mother had inherited the collection that Henrietta, Lisa's grandmother, had owned. To Lisa, pearls were never out of style. "Thank you, Jackson." She carefully pulled the earrings from the box and hooked them through her lobes. "For the clothing, and the jewelry."

Jackson looked over his should to merge out of his parking spot and into traffic. "Don't worry about it," he answered distractedly. "It was nothing. Believe me, if you're going to be meeting with this guy, you're going to want to look good."

-

-

-

"So, how much farther is this place?" Lisa asked. Since leaving the boutique, they had been driving for nearly 45 minutes. In the daylight, the surroundings were much more familiar. At least now she knew that they had been driving from at least the Ballard Pines area. Did Jackson live in Ballard Pines? She'd have to pay more attention on the way back.

"Should be about another 10 minutes or so."

Lisa nodded and continued staring out the window. "How old are you?"

There was a long pause from Jackson. "I'll be 31."

Jackson was 31? Well, she had guessed he was close to her age. He didn't seem to be much older than her. Now she knew that to be the case. "So, you'll _be_ 31; you _aren't_ 31, yet. When is your birthday?"

"Why? Are you baking me a cake?"

Lisa turned her head. "It depends. Will I have enough time to bake a cake, or is your birthday going to be too close to make it?"

"What is this? Twenty Questions?" When Lisa didn't respond, he sighed. "Alright, I'll play this little game you've got going."

"I never said it was a game. I'm just curious."

"Why?"

"Because you know practically everything about me, and I don't know hardly anything about you. That, and it makes for a boring drive if we just sit here."

"You seemed to pass the other forty-five minutes without fail," he countered.

"I know, and it got to me. So now I'm taking the opportunity to ask questions."

"May. My birthday is in May. My turn to ask a question, now. Why did you stop seeing Evan?"

Lisa's head jerked toward Jackson, surprise clearly written across her face. "Evan? I was in college when—" she eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know about Evan?"

Jackson merely shrugged. "It was my job to find out every little thing I could about you. I obviously don't have the unabridged version of your biography. So, why did you stop seeing Evan?"

Lisa opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking much like a fish out of water. She hadn't thought about Evan in years. He had been a semi-long-term boyfriend. Well, bordering on long-term. "He was seeing someone else," she finally managed. She watched as one of Jackson's eyebrows raised.

"While the two of you were dating?" he questioned. Lisa nodded. "Sounds like a fair reason to stop seeing him."

"What about you? When was the last time you had a serious relationship?"

"Who said anything about Evan being your last relationship? Or about what you two had being serious?"

Lisa smirked. "Don't try turning the tables on me. Answer the question." Jackson glanced in his rear-view mirror and shifted uncomfortably. This piqued Lisa's interest. What was it about the question, aside from its personal nature, that bugged Jackson? "Well?" she pressed.

He gave a sigh. "Five years ago."

"And ..."

"And what?"

"You're just going to leave it at that?"

Jackson was silent for a moment longer. "Yes." Something had changed in the air between them. Lisa felt that she wasn't getting the full story, and knew Jackson wasn't going to give all of it up, just yet. This would take some digging.

"What was her name?"

"Ollie."

Lisa smiled at the name, trying to conjure up an image of a woman that could match the name Ollie. It sounded ... tomboyish.

"Where did you meet—"

"We're here," Jackson quickly interrupted. They had exited from the highway and entered a town. Lisa couldn't tell which town it was. Nothing about it screamed Miami, so she knew she wasn't back home, just yet. Jackson pulled out of traffic and into the parking zone along the sidewalk in front of a 3-story brick building. The building had a large silver sign with something written in Italian that Lisa was unable to translate, _Colline Toscane_.

The inside was ill-lit, and Lisa got the impression that the owners of the restaurant were going for a wine cavern look. Despite the brick on the outside, the inside was covered in rock wall and plaster facades. Fake grape vines climbed the walls and dangled through a trellis system suspended from the ceiling. Cafe lights twinkled through the faux canopy, which, surprisingly, gave the entire setting a romantic hue. Tabletops were covered with white tablecloths, and each had a small, red, sphere-shaped crackle glass votive with a tealight lit inside. The votives had olive wreaths around their bases. An Italian-themed restaurant if she ever saw one.

"_Buongiorno_, my name ees Zola." A petite woman with a thick Italian accent greeted them. "_Benvenuto a Colline Toscane_. Will eet just be de two of you joining us for lunch today, or will utters be joining your party?" She grabbed two menus from behind the receiving podium and tucked them into her arm.

"_I soltanto due di noi, grazie. Il nostro amico è già qui,_" Jackson said softly in well-accented Italian. Surprised, Lisa faced Jackson, raising a curious eyebrow at him. Jackson simply cocked his head to the side, brushing off her unspoken query. He caught sight of someone and nodded in that direction. "_Ci è il nostro amico_."

"_Molto bene, lascilo accompagnarlo alla vostra tabella_." Zola walked ahead of them at a quick pace, leaving a bit of distance between herself and Jackson and Lisa.

"I didn't know you spoke Italian," Lisa remarked in a whisper. "Impressive."

"You ought to hear my French," Jackson whispered back with a self-satisfied smirk.

Zola stopped at their table, placed the menus across from the man already seated there, and stepped back to allow Lisa and Jackson to move to their side of the table. "_Signore_, may I offer you anudder glass of wine?" The seated man shook his head, mumbling a "No, thank you" and holding up his hand in polite refusal. "_Molto bene_," she turned to Jackson and Lisa, "I will give you a moment to look over de menus, and den I will come back for your orders._ Buon appetito_."

As Zola left, the man stood, extending his hand to Jackson, giving it a firm shake. "It is good to see you, Jackson."

"You too, sir."

The man released Jackson's hand and held his arms out wide. "And this must be the clever Miss Reisert whose name has come up in more than one conversation in my office, I must say." His words held no threat to them, but Lisa felt the color drain from her face slightly. It was an effort to keep her smile from faltering. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Reisert. I am Salazar Hidalgo de Echevarria." He took Lisa's hand and placed a kiss on the back of her palm.

"That's quite a mouthful, Mr. Echevar— ... Echaver—..." Lisa grimaced humorously as she struggled with the pronunciation of his full surname.

"E-che-varr-ia," he corrected with an amused laugh, "but please, call me Sal."

"A pleasure to meet you too, then, Sal," Lisa responded with a graceful smile. She caught Jackson's gaze for a split second as he held her chair for her. He gave her a quick wink. So far, so good. "Thank you," she remarked politely as Jackson pushed in her chair, before seating himself.

"I am so pleased you were able to accommodate the change of plans on such short notice, Jackson. Their lunch is spectacular, and their wine is very pleasing to the palette. It is a shame we must talk business through such a fine meal. If time allows, I will save our business matters until after we've enjoyed our lunch, yes?"

"Of course, sir." Jackson eyed the menu, and saw Lisa do the same from the edge of his vision. So far, Lisa was making a good impression on Sal. Things were going better than he had anticipated.

"I, for one, have never been here. You seem to be quite familiar with this establishment, though, Mr. Echevarria. Would you be able to recommend anything for me?" Jackson felt a warmth blossoming in his chest at the knowledge that Lisa was performing her required role flawlessly. She was the perfect image of a lady — polite, appropriately dressed, relaxed, friendly, and able to master the execution of the appropriate facial expressions. All her time spent working in the hospitality field was serving her well.

Sufficiently disarmed, Sal gave her a surprised smile. "Of course! I'd be happy to, Miss Reisert."

"You can call me Lisa," she said warmly.

"No, I must insist on calling you Miss Reisert. If word gets back to my wife that I am on a first name basis with a young lady as beautiful as you, she'll most certainly move my sleeping arrangements to the couch in the den!" Sal joked. Lisa gave a small laugh. Jackson fought the urge to roll his eyes. Sal was pouring on the charm, alright. It was a good sign.

"Ah, _signori e signora_ ... are you ready to order, or woulda you like a leetle more time to decide?" At their uncertain glances, the newly-returned Zola gave an understanding nod. "Perhaps I can take your beverage orders while you are deciding, yes?"

"Please, put everything on my check," Sal quickly interceded. Jackson and Lisa began a combined protesting look, but Sal held up a hand, refusing to have it any other way. "On my check, please," he reinforced. Zola nodded with a polite smile. Sal turned his head toward her and gave an amused look. "I have an idea. Bring us a bottle of the red zinfandel, and we shall start from there."

"Of course, _signore_." Zola quickly disappeared into the wine cellar.

"So, Miss Reisert ... do you like Italian food?"

"Of course! My mother made _excellent_ homemade Italian food when I was younger. I've grown to love it."

"Ah, yes. Your mother was a cook, was she not? She studied at a culinary institute in France in her younger years, if I am not mistaken."

Lisa's hand trembled slightly. She felt Jackson's hand rest gently on her thigh, his thumb rubbing along the smooth fabric of her dress — a reminder to remain calm. "Yes, she was," she responded in a light tone. "How did you know?" She made sure to keep any accusation out of her voice.

"Forgive me," Sal gave a sheepish grin. "It is my responsibility, as the executive of this business branch, to ensure that I am well-versed in my branch's case files, to a degree. I did not mean to unsettle you."

"Oh no, not at all," Lisa laughed, hoping to dispel any jittery nerves. "It was just fascinating that you knew my mother was a chef. She hasn't cooked professionally in years. Do you have a propensity for cooking?" She gave a demure smile. "I'll admit, the only things I seem to be able to manage to cook without incident are scrambled eggs and French toast. This apple fell pretty far from the tree." She felt a slight pat on her thigh, then the hand slid from her leg. Crisis averted.

"My father, he worked for many years in a restaurant in Cuba, where I am from. He taught me everything he knew about cooking. Unfortunately, I was a bad pupil. But, my wife and son are incredible cooks. I regret that my daughter has inherited her father's cooking skills." Sal glanced back down at the menu. "Thankfully, we aren't in charge of the meal preparation today. There is a chicken fettucine that they make that will bring tears to your eyes. Most people choose the alfredo sauce, but I prefer the marinara. Does that sound appetizing, Miss Reisert?"

-

-

-

Fifteen minutes later, the trio had placed their orders and were sipping at their wine. Sal was recounting a story from Jackson's early years with the company. Lisa listened intently, but Jackson was clearly uncomfortable.

"So, wait ... he locked the car keys in their house? While they were upstairs, sleeping?" Lisa asked incredulously, glancing between Jackson and Sal. Sal's face was red with laughter, but Jackson had an embarrassed smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. She tucked her hands under chin neatly, casting a playful gaze in Jackson's direction. "So, Mr. Hotshot ... how'd you save yourself from that one?"

"I called a cab," Jackson mumbled. Lisa and Sal broke into a fit of laughter before Sal struggled through the rest of the story.

"He came back, dressed as a utilities man, and woke them up to tell them about a supposed 'gas leak' that was being reported in their area!" He leaned back in his chair, tears streaming down his face. "He actually went through and started checking their appliances-"

"Mind you, I knew nothing about appliances at the time—" Jackson tried to defend.

"—and they were all electric!" Sal finished, erupting into another round of laughter. "The stove, the water heater, the washer and dryer — everything!"

Lisa snorted, her face blushing red in sympathetic embarrassment.

"I was so aggravated by the whole thing that I walked out the door without the keys. _Again_." Jackson gave a genuine laugh, tracing the top of his wine glass with his index finger. "I was halfway down their sidewalk, when the lady came out, still dressed in her bathrobe, telling me I must've left my keys there, because she didn't recognize the set."

"Do y— ... do you re— ..." Sal was struggling for breath in between laughs. "You remember when it was all the rage to have those ... those rabbit foot keychains?"

Lisa gasped, her face lit up with amusement as she turned to Jackson. "You _didn't_!"

Jackson sighed and nodded. "I did," he confessed, his own face relaxing into a smile. "And one of those little perpetual motion things, where you turn it upside down, and the oil droplets drip down over the paddle wheel and follow the little path ..." he motioned with his hands. "And then once it all drains, you flip it over again and it drains the other way." Lisa gave a piteous moan. "Yeah, I had one of those on there, too," he admitted, grimacing slightly. He lifted his wine glass to his lips, taking a healthy sip before setting it back down again and glancing up. "Thank God. I've been rescued." He gave a grateful smile to Zola as she arrived with their plates, calling out each dish before she set it on the table. After ensuring that everyone had their correct meals and asking if anyone needed anything else, she wished them _buon appetito_ again.

Lisa stifled a laugh as she appraised her chicken fettucine alfredo. "If it makes you feel any better, I had a bright green HyperColor shirt that I ruined. I kept sticking it in the freezer, then I'd pull it out and put my hands all over it and watch my handprints turn lighter green, then I'd stick it back in. I think the shirt only made it for about 5 days."

"Oh my God," Jackson groaned, "I forgot all about HyperColor shirts!"

Sal laughed and stuck a fork into a piece of ravioli. "My son from my first marriage, he had a ..." he gestured wildly, searching for the right words, "oh, what were those things? You take the black piece of paper, and you take the pegs-"

"Lite Brite!" Jackson and Lisa exclaimed in unison.

Lisa twirled her fork in her fettucine. "I had a friend come over one time — I'll never forget — and her brother was a few grades ahead of us. I thought my mom would _never_ stop whipping me, because she thought it was _me_ that made the inappropriate picture with the Lite Brite!"

Jackson laughed. "Dare I ask what it was?"

"A very detailed bust of a well-endowed woman," she replied with a sigh. Jackson and Sal laughed while Lisa took a forkful of fettucine.

"Remember Spirographs—"

-

-

-

The meal passed peaceably, with everyone sharing nostalgic stories and finishing off their meals. Another bottle of wine arrived, followed by dessert menus. After another 10 minutes, things quieted down amongst the trio.

Sal sighed contentedly, much like a cat that had just finished off a bowl of cream, as their desserts arrived. "Perhaps now we shall talk business, yes?" They thanked Zola, who gave a courteous smile and disappeared. Sal settled forward on his forearms, brushed his tie back from its dangerously close position to his tiramisu, and raised his eyes towards Jackson. "I understand that you want to finish what you started?"

Jackson nodded, setting his fork down on his plate. "Sal, you know as well as I do, I've never left a job unfinished. I don't want to sully my reputation, or the company's reputation, any further than I already have, by not delivering on a promise." It wasn't a complete lie, but it was efficient enough. Truth was, he wasn't as interested in reputations as much as he was interested in closing a mission. It was a bit OCD of him, but he didn't like leaving any loose ends. "Clients paid for a job to be done, and it hasn't been finished. We either refund the money or deliver on our contractual agreement."

"What makes you think it is so simple, _mijo_?" Jackson felt Lisa shift next to him. "Since the attempt on Keefe, security has tightened, new government regulations have been put into place, and your face was all over the news. Not to mention the fact that the clients have not contacted us since the mission went wrong. They haven't even tried to collect the down payment."

"What?" Jackson asked, clearly confused. "That doesn't make sense. Why would they drop off the map like that?"

"Maybe they don't want to be found," Lisa said quietly, staring absentmindedly at the spoon she had jabbed into her own tiramisu.

Sal smiled and folded his hands under his chin. A look crossed his face that signaled to Jackson that the wheels were turning in Sal's head. "Go on," Sal encouraged.

Snapping out of her daze, Lisa looked up, surveying the interested stares from both Jackson and Sal. "Well ..." she began slowly, setting her spoon on her plate, "if they make a down payment for a hit against Keefe, and it gets botched," her face colored slightly, "it would make sense for them to stay away. You know how they say 'don't return to the scene of the crime'? If they were to pursue it any further, they're taking chances that they could be going down with the ship if law enforcement takes you guys down or starts connecting the dots."

"I assure you that won't happen, Miss Reisert," Sal said with a Cheshire cat grin. His voice was low, hinting of secrecy.

"Even if that's true," Lisa started, copying Sal's position by leaning forward and folding her hands under her chin, "do your clients know that? Or are they willing to bet that they would be better served by cutting their losses and keep from raising any more flags that could lead back to them?"

Sal smiled and pointed a finger at her. "I like her." He looked at Jackson, still smiling and pointing, "I like her very much."

Jackson gave an uneasy smile, turning his stare back down to his plate. "I'm glad you do, sir."

"Really? Why is that?"

The question caught Jackson off-guard. Sal was testing him again. "Because I'm sure Lisa would be in a very bad position if you _weren't_ pleased with her," he replied with a somewhat lethal smile in Lisa's direction. To her credit, she merely blinked at him before turning her gaze back to Sal.

"Indeed, she would."

"I'd appreciate it, Sal, if you didn't make backhanded threats, right in front of me," Lisa said calmly, staring at him evenly. She felt Jackson's hand on her thigh again, warning her. He gave her leg a less-than-gentle squeeze. "Especially when you were just commenting on how much you liked me." Jackson intensified his grip, hard enough to hurt.

"I most certainly do, I assure you. I especially like the way you think. Reminds me of a certain manager I know," Sal stared pointedly at Jackson. "In fact, I believe that your expertise would be very helpful to Jackson, should he decide to finish the job he was assigned."

Lisa swallowed hard, her cool exterior faltering slightly. "I'm not sure I understand your implications."

Jackson released his grip on Lisa's thigh and leaned on one elbow, his gaze alternating between Lisa and Sal. Hopefully, Lisa would take this easily. "There was a reason I chose you when I first started this job," he began. "You were familiar with Keefe; he trusted you. Now that you've so valiantly saved his life and the lives of his family, he trusts you even more. Plus, you're familiar with his travel arrangements from time to time. You know what he expects in his rooms, what his itineraries look like, how his security detail behaves. We can use that to bring him down."

Lisa let out a shaky breath. She had already promised to help him finish the Keefe assignment, but agreeing to it in front of Sal made things so much more real. "You two are asking me to help you assassinate the head of the Department of Homeland Security," she whispered. She didn't quite know if it was a question or a statement.

"You would need some very specialized training, of course, but ... yes," Sal replied as both he and Jackson fixed Lisa with an intense gaze. "I assure you, whatever noble aspirations you believe Mr. Charles Keefe has ... they are not what you think."

So, Sal had seen the same information that Jackson had seen. Now, they were both nominating her for a position as criminal accomplice in the assassination of a federal official. All over a nice helping of tiramisu, in a quaint Italian restaurant. If she could find the humor in the utter absurdity of it all, she would've laughed. They were just a few acquaintances, getting together for lunch to go over planning a second attempt to assassinate Charles Keefe, no biggie.

_—So, what _do_ you do?_

_—Government overthrows ... flashy, high-profile assassinations. The usual._

Lisa blinked at the recollection. No wonder he had made it sound so casual.

They were doing the same thing, right now.

"I want to see the files," she suddenly said. Sal looked as if he were caught off-guard. "The files. The ones that show proof that Keefe has ties to terrorists. I want to see them. Jackson said there were files, so I want to see them." She unlocked her fingers and sat back up in a straight position, letting her hands wring themselves in her lap. "I want to know why I'm agreeing to do this."

"So, you _have_ agreed then?" Sal asked.

Lisa gave a bitter laugh. "Mr. Echevarria, you don't strike me as the type of person who would be open to negotiation on this subject. And I'm quite sure you could dissuade me from saying no."

Sal smiled again at Jackson. "I like her. I like her very much."


End file.
